December
by Terp4Life
Summary: As the holidays approach, Weller's team is left reeling from the events of the past year. As much as each of them needs each other, emotionally speaking none of them have much, if anything, left to give to the others. That is, until one little idea begins to draw them back together.
1. Just Barely Hanging On

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: Once again, I've been inspired to write an entire story just from a song, which seems to be happening to me a lot lately. This time, the song made one particular scene pop into my head (it's not in this chapter, so you won't find out which one it is yet) and the rest of the story just grew from there. I was feeling stressed about the holidays and all the things there are to do in December, so I had decided that I wanted to write a holiday themed Jeller story to get myself in the spirit – so far it's working! There will be quite a few chapters (I'm not sure how many, but I've written the whole thing already, for once, so I just need to break it up into chapters as I go), and I hope you enjoy it. This first chapter is mostly Patterson, but there will be a lot of Jeller, I promise._

Patterson had been quiet for weeks, maybe longer. Too quiet. Everyone had noticed – it was hard not to, after all, when she was usually so bubbly. None of them had ever known her to be so quiet, so withdrawn. Even after David had been killed, there was still a fire inside her to find his killer. After they'd found his killer, Patterson had confessed to Jane that it hadn't made her feel better, but even _still_ … the fight hadn't left her completely. Lately, however – in the months since Sandstorm had been crippled and the team had almost been killed, and most importantly to her, Borden had been exposed as a mole – well, Patterson hadn't been the same person since then.

They understood why, of course. When the job that you love more than anything else in the world leads one boyfriend to be murdered, well, that would be enough to undo anyone. And then, when you finally begin to heal from that and take a chance on someone else, a coworker, which is in and of itself always risky… then you find out that he was a mole with the very organization that you were trying to fight all along? They weren't sure how long it would take her to come back from that one, but the assumption was that it would be a long time.

To make things worse, Patterson wasn't the only one on the team who was an emotional mess, of course. It went without saying that Jane had been having it rough – to put it mildly – as far back as when she'd first met Oscar and found out that she'd _done this to herself_ , and it seemed that it had only gotten worse from there. After she'd escaped from the CIA black site and ended up back at the FBI – against her will… well, she wasn't quite in a position to help herself, much less anyone else. Most days, she was lucky to be _standing_ , though she never complained, unwilling to admit weakness of any kind.

Weller was also in rough shape in the aftermath of his discovery of the multiple deceptions in his life, and he coped by focusing on work, just like he always had in the past. Patterson was like a sister to him, but as much as he wanted to, he was simply not in a place where he could help her. Again, like Jane, he really couldn't even help himself, much less anyone else.

Reade and Zapata had their own issues going on as well, of course, though no one else knew about their connection to the whole Coach Jones murder, or why they were suddenly so often huddled together talking about something that appeared to be life or death. It helped them that the rest of the team was so distracted by their own issues, because normally someone probably would have picked up on the fact that something was going on with them quickly. The pair did notice that Patterson had been down – it was hard not to, of course – and they each tried to support her as best they could, but just then they had only slightly more to give her than Jane and Weller, which was still almost nothing.

And so the team floundered on, doing the best they could through it all, stumbling blindly toward the holiday season without giving the impending holidays a thought. After all, they were all just barely hanging on enough to work on the cases that came up – and they continued to come up. It was true that none of them were at their best, but ever so slowly, day by day, things were getting better. Separately, each of them just tried to hang onto that fact, and to give what little support they could to each other. Their best might not have been very good, but it was all they could do.

Then on December first, a switch suddenly flipped in Patterson's head. She'd been talking to the newly appointed bureau psychologist nearly every day, and at some point one of their topics of conversation was how much she was dreading the holidays this year. Their new psychologist, Dr. Mary White, a tall brunette with a calm demeanor, had listened to Patterson at length on the subject and suggested that she find one specific thing to look forward to about the holidays – maybe a project, or something that she could be proactive and _do_ , something that would make her happy.

Honestly, Patterson hadn't been interested at all when Dr. White had suggested it, but when she'd thought about it later, an idea had occurred to her. If there was one thing Patterson loved about the holidays, it was the chance to get together with the people she loved. Her family lived far away, of course, so she didn't see them as much as she would have liked (though in the case of her mother, small doses were better), but her FBI family were right here in New York, and yet she felt like they hadn't seen each other in ages – despite the fact that they worked side by side every day. Realizing that this was in part because she had been so preoccupied with herself, and in part because the rest of her team was hurting so much over their own problems, Patterson, ever the problem solver, suddenly had a renewed determination to help herself and the rest of her FBI family all at once. Suddenly, she had a purpose again.

And so she decided, early in the morning on December second, that this year, there would be a holiday party in their office. Not just for her team, but for the whole department. The more the merrier, and all that, after all. If there was one thing Patterson loved to do, it was organize things, and this love of organization spread to planning events as well. Finally, she had a renewed determination to accomplish something, and this even helped her focus more on her work, as well.

The change in her didn't go unnoticed by the team, either, and not only was she able to better focus on their current tattoo case, but she began to reach out more, little by little, to the members of her team as well. It was as though the world around her was slowly coming back into focus after she'd been walking around in a haze for the past few months, and she had to admit that now that she could see how down she had been, she could understand why it had been so strongly recommended that she seek professional help. She wasn't out of the woods, but at least she could now see enough light from beyond the trees that she was reminded that the woods didn't go on forever.

At mid-day on December second, after several hours of brainstorming and some extensive Google searching, she had a tentative plan, and she approached Weller. Standing in his office, she was full of nervous anticipation. His temper had been short and he'd been extra gruff with everyone for months, though the edge was finally beginning to soften, albeit very slowly, on his demeanor. If she had to peg the gradual change to one thing, she would say that it seemed to be proportional to the change in his interaction with Jane. She couldn't be _sure_ the two were related, but knowing both of them as she did, it seemed like it would have made sense. There seemed to be less animosity between the two of them now, a few months after Jane had resurfaced, but neither of them had found the light that had once been in their eyes.

 _Probably because it shone for each other_ , she thought sadly as she waited for Weller's attention. Then something occurred to her. The party that she was about to propose would be not only a chance for the team to relax, spend time together and possibly mend fences, but maybe it would be an excuse for Jane and Weller to be in the same room without the pretext of work, to talk about _something, anything_ else… Her excitement about her new pet project was now growing by the minute.

When she finally got to voice the idea to Weller, he told her gruffly that he'd think about it. While it wasn't the immediate yes that she'd hoped for, it wasn't a no, either. She knew how her boss' mind worked, and he needed time to digest a new idea, to chew on from all angles. She had presented the party as a benefit to everyone in the office, a chance to relax after the past few months, which, she reminded him, hadn't been easy on _any_ of them. As she said that, she tried to bring out her biggest, saddest puppy-dog eyes, knowing that an emotional expression from her might not work as well as Jane's once had, but that he was not immune to the image of a sad woman, especially one that he cared about.

Before the end of that same day, Weller could tell that Patterson wasn't going to stop giving him the sad "I've lost everything so can't I please plan this party" eyes until he said yes to her idea. He'd checked into the discretionary funds account, and they'd actually still had money remaining – which was unheard of for the end of the year. It seemed that there had been no time for staff development while they were spending all of their time on cases that had constantly threatened their lives, and so before she'd left for the day on December second, Patterson had the go-ahead.

" _Yes, we can have a party. Yes, here in the office. This is how much money I can allocate to it…_ " Weller had told her. Thinking back on it the next day, and in the days that followed, she still couldn't quite believe that she hadn't had to beg him to say yes. _Damn, I'm good_ , she'd thought to herself. And so, the party planning began in earnest. She had three weeks exactly to get things organized, and that seemed like plenty of time to plan something really special.

By the end of the day the following Monday, December fifth, she'd cornered each of the members of the staff personally, either in small groups of individually, to make sure that they knew about the festivities, scheduled for December twenty-third, beginning at 6:00 pm. She hated to try to predict when get-togethers would end, but there was equipment to be rented, so she needed a timeframe. In the end, she decided on 6:00-9:00, and that was the time that she gave each of her coworkers. She'd even printed out business card sized Save the Date cards on her computer at home, decorated with a cute little picture of a snowman, despite the fact that there probably wouldn't be any snow by then. It didn't matter. It was just one more thing that got her excited about what was to come.

Patterson had purposely saved talking to Jane about the party for last. There were several reasons, but the biggest one was that she just wasn't sure how best to get her interested in it. With everything Jane had been through over the course of this year, Patterson felt like a holiday party would seem trivial to Jane. For most people, there would be the nostalgia that the thought of such a party would evoke, other happy memories that the idea would bring back, and hopefully it would spark something in them, too. That seemed to have happened so far, even in the other members of the team. Jane, however, was obviously a special case. While this wasn't the first Christmas that she could remember, to her knowledge, Jane hadn't been involved in any big festivities last year.

On the contrary, at this time last year Jane had been reeling from so many things that they hadn't even known about at the time – or at least Patterson hadn't known about. _Oscar. Carter. You did this to yourself._ The team had only learned about all of this much, much later, of course. Last year now felt so far away, it was hard to remember the details clearly. Suffice it to say, that Jane was a special case, and getting her interested in this party that meant so much to Patterson might not be as easy to sell as it had been to the others. Still, she was determined to try her hardest, and to make it a prolonged campaign to convince her to attend, if it came to that, if for no other reason than that Jane was her friend, despite everything, and she wanted her to be happy. Jane needed something to hold onto at least as much as Patterson did, if not more.

She found Jane in a conference room late that afternoon, sitting with a laptop and appearing to work on something but seeming distracted. Watching her through the glass for a few minutes before opening the door, she saw the other woman finger the neck of her black shirt absently, as if she was missing a necklace that she would have otherwise played with unconsciously. Patterson recognized the gesture because she, too, did the same thing with a necklace that David had given her what felt like long ago. She hadn't worn it for a long time after his death, but she had recently taken to wearing it again, finding that it brought her a strange sense of peace.

 _Hadn't Jane had a necklace at some point?_ Patterson wondered.Yes, now that she thought about it, she had seen her with one that had a small, flat circular pendant. It had appeared not too long before… _Oh_ , Patterson thought in alarm, making the connection between Jane's arrest and the fact that she no longer wore a necklace. _They probably took it from her_ … _and never gave it back._ Once again, she was sad for this woman who had lost everything, twice. It had taken Patterson a while to make peace with the things that Jane had done, but who was she to judge her? No one made all of the right decisions, certainly not her, and she believed now that Jane's heart and her intentions had been in the right place. Some of the time it felt like she was the _only_ one who believed this.

Gathering her courage, Patterson pushed through the glass door into the conference room and walked slowly towards Jane, a small, nervous smile on her face. "Hey," she said to her friend, who looked very surprised to see her there. "I was looking for you all over."

Jane's face reflected the confusion that she felt. _Why was Patterson looking for me?_ "Is something wrong?" Jane asked. She tended to camp out in the conference room late in the day so that she didn't have to watch everyone – though if she was being honest with herself, mostly Kurt, leave for the day and save them the trouble of deciding whether or not to acknowledge her as they left. Once upon a time, she'd often left with Kurt, even if they only went as far as the locker room together, and these days she was doing everything she could to ease the pain she felt at losing those little signs of familiarity, of closeness, with him.

He'd actually remarked the other day about how he'd been looking for her when he left the night before, but she'd just shrugged noncommittally and said she wasn't sure where she'd been when he was looking for her, even though she knew perfectly well. It was easier this way, she told herself. She was saving them both the awkwardness, the trouble of having to pretend. Even though Nas was no longer around, so there was no chance for Jane having to watch the two of _them_ leave together, the mere idea of which had been like a body-slam to her heart, she remained steadfast in her new pattern. It still made sense to just stay out of sight.

Patterson smiled sadly at Jane's misreading of the situation. _Does she honestly think that I would only come looking for her if I needed something?_ Patterson wondered. She made a mental note to try to make more of an effort with Jane, who clearly hadn't been spending enough time with Dr. White. It would be just like Jane to resist therapy, resist every attempt to help her and to just insist that she was _fine_ , even when it was obvious to anyone who paid even a little bit of attention to her that she was anything _but_ fine.

Smiling at Jane, she was glad to be able to come to her with something that wasn't work related, even if she had a sneaking suspicion that Jane was going to hate the idea. "So, I know that this may sound silly to you," Patterson began, suddenly nervous, "but I'm planning a holiday party. For the whole office. And I'm telling everyone in person, because…"

 _Everyone? Or just me?_ Jane wondered. It seemed like the kind of thing that would have been just as easy to send an email about. So why was she doing it in person? Yes, Patterson liked people, but lately she'd been anything but excited about talking to people. So what was this all about?

 _You're so suspicious,_ the voice in her head told her almost immediately. _Maybe this is how Patterson is getting herself back out there, into the world of functional people. Maybe_ _ **you**_ _should try that._

In her head, Jane scoffed at the voice. What was the point, anyway? It was all meaningless, ridiculous, a waste of time. Didn't they have better things to do? She certainly did.

"So, it's going to be on Friday, December twenty-third, after work. 6:00-9:00. It seems crazy, but that's just a few weeks away. It'll be right here in the office. Oh! And the dress is formal. So, everyone's going to dress up." She paused, watching Jane and knowing that she was hating the idea already. Still, Patterson wasn't one to give up… And besides, if anyone needed a chance to unwind, it was Jane. She was the most tightly wound person that Patterson could think of – tied with Weller, of course. _How appropriate_ , she thought.

"And I know that you hate the idea, because it sounds stupid, like a waste of time," she paused, waiting for Jane to focus on her again. Her eyes had been darting all around the room and knowing Jane as she did, she knew that that meant she was trying to avoid even having to listen to her. When Jane did look back at her, looking slightly guilty and giving away the fact that she _did_ hate the idea of the party, Patterson continued. "But… I really need this. Not just planning it, though that, too… I think we _all_ just really need something to look forward to, a chance to relax, to do something _together._ You know, something _besides_ hunting down criminals." She smiled weakly at Jane, hoping to at least elicit a hint of a smile from her at that last part.

Jane looked back at her and did indeed give a tiny smile, though Patterson swore that she could see sadness in it, and wished that she could read the other woman's thoughts so that she could provide some sort of reassurance. It was so obvious that Jane needed someone to lean on, and yet, other than the occasional minute long exchange, Jane never really seemed to talk to any of them. Patterson knew that she shouldn't expect too much too fast, but it was heartbreaking to remember where they had all been earlier that year, before everything… There had been her girls' nights with Jane and Zapata, and then of course, watching Jane and Weller look so happy even just standing near each other… And now it was all _so far_ beyond messed up, and Patterson worried that they'd never see anything resembling those things again.

Jane just nodded at her, and seeing that Patterson seemed to be expecting a verbal response, she told her, "It sounds nice, Patterson." Jane actually didn't think it sounded nice at all – she could think of a hundred things that she would rather do – but there was no reason to say something like that to Patterson. Yes, Jane knew that she wasn't a good person, but she also knew that she didn't have to act like a monster. This was obviously important to Patterson, and the least Jane could do was say a few kind words to her. After everything she had done to this team, she owed all of them a lot more than that.

Patterson was _still_ watching her, still waiting for a commitment, an agreement, waiting for Jane to say that she'd be there. That much was obvious. With a heavy sigh, Jane said, "I'll try, okay Patterson?"

The look in Jane's eyes had changed, and Patterson could see that while Jane obviously hated the idea, despite saying that it sounded "nice," she really would try to be there. At least, she _hoped_ that that was what Jane was thinking, and that it wasn't just her overactive imagination and her desperate hope that Jane would be there. But she supposed that only time would tell.

"You said that it's going to be a, uh, dress up party?" Jane asked, saying the words as if they tasted bitter.

Patterson smiled back at her, trying to remain positive. Dressing up was one of the things she'd always enjoyed about the holidays. The chance to look a little bit glamorous and get together with friends. "Yes, I mean, it doesn't have to be black tie, exactly, I guess…" Really, she would love it if everyone came that dressed up, but she couldn't exactly force them. And she'd rather that they came, and looked nice, than worried about their exact level of formality.

Biting her lip unconsciously, Jane nodded slowly, the wheels turning in her head. Not only did she have to go to this party, but she had to find a dress for it. The prospect of finding a dress had been intimidating _before_ , and thankfully for the undercover missions where she'd needed one so far, the Bureau had supplied them to her. But now she needed to find her own… and something equally non-revealing as the ones she'd worn before. If it had only been a matter of her tattoos, at this point, and for this function, she would have just said, _To Hell with it,_ and bought a regular old simple black dress, cut however, no matter how many tattoos it showed... because at this point, who cared? It wasn't as though everyone there didn't already know that she was a tattooed freak, anyway.

 _Stop it,_ the voice in her head told her. _You're not a freak, and you don't actually think that about yourself. You're just in a bad mood._ Ignoring the voice, her thoughts continued to spill forwards like waves rushing toward the shore. She felt very little control of them just then.

But of course, it was no longer a matter of just her tattoos. Now in order to find a dress that she was willing to wear, she had to contend with the reality of finding something that would cover the scars left on her by Keaton and his CIA goons – the physical ones, anyway. The emotional ones would probably _never_ heal – but at least you couldn't see them when she wore a dress.

It was obvious that Jane was unhappy not only at the prospect of the party, but at the level of formality of the party, and it took Patterson a few minutes to figure out why. _She was tortured by the CIA for three months, idiot,_ she suddenly realized. _She's not exactly loving the idea of wearing a dress._

As much as she hadn't been sure of Jane's reaction to the idea of the party, other than that she wouldn't like it, Patterson really wasn't sure what Jane would say about what she was about to say next, but it seemed like the right thing to do. After all, they were friends… or at least, Patterson hoped that Jane still considered her a friend, at least as much as she was able to just then.

"If you, uh, want some company… or help… or whatever… to go shopping for a dress… you know, for the party… I mean, just let me know, okay?" she managed to stammer out, suddenly nervous. It wouldn't have been like Jane to lash out at her, not in _this_ situation especially, and yet, she'd had to force the words out anyway.

Jane nodded only very slightly, looking pained, and whispered, "Thanks," then her eyes darted away from Patterson, as she was clearly growing more and more uncomfortable. Patterson decided to take pity on Jane then, and let her digest the information she'd given her. "Okay, well, that's what I wanted to tell you, so… I'll see you later." Turning to leave, she stopped at the door and turned around.

"I mean it Jane, if you need help, call me." Jane just smiled weakly at her, nodding. "Oh!" Patterson added, suddenly remembering the other thing she'd wanted to mention. "I meant to tell you… Weller was looking for you before he left." This was both true and not _quite_ true at the same time, but Patterson wanted to see Jane's reaction. She'd been watching the two of them – well, when she hadn't been preoccupied with her own problems, which had been most of the time until recently – and now that the fog was lifting, she was noticing things again, and trying to do what little she could to help the people around her. After all, doing things like that made _her_ feel better – just knowing that she could help them.

The difference that she saw in Jane's expression after she said that Weller had been looking for her was immediate and frankly, surprisingly dramatic. Jane had worked so hard to be guarded, and while her _face_ didn't change dramatically, Patterson saw the spark in her eyes. _Interesting_ , she thought, filing the information away for later. It didn't matter that Weller hadn't actually asked anyone where Jane was… he _had_ been looking for her, even if he didn't realize it. She'd been talking to Zapata and Reade by their computers, and she'd watched him stare at the workstation that Jane normally sat at for ten minutes before he'd gotten up to leave, at which point she'd gone in search of Jane herself. In her mind, that made it pretty obvious, as far as she was concerned.

If she didn't know better, she would think that just maybe, there was still hope for those two yet.


	2. Be Right There

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: Thanks to everyone who left reviews on chapter 1. That, along with the beginning of chapter 2, was really just the warm up. Patterson is key here, obviously, but the story really isn't about her… I'm excited to get into the heart of the story (especially since for once, I know where it's going and I can't wait for you all to see it as well). Enjoy!_

It took a week, but Jane did end up asking Patterson for help finding a dress. In the week between Patterson's invitation and the day that Jane accepted that she was going to need _help_ – something that she avoided asking for from anyone at all costs – Jane had started paying more attention to Patterson's behavior. She wanted to be as sure as possible that if she asked Patterson for help, she wouldn't be making a monumental error in judgement.

So she watched the blonde carefully, both in her interactions with Jane, as well as from afar, and she noticed that the agent seemed more and more like her old self. She had trusted Patterson before… And yes, she felt betrayed by the whole team, but as much as she gave them all shared blame for what had happened to her at the hands of the CIA, she wanted to believe that she could trust Patterson at least enough to help her find a dress. Besides… there was no other option _but_ to trust her, other than not to go to the party – which would end up being an even bigger headache.

 _Shopping isn't life threatening,_ she repeated to herself. _Even if it goes badly, you can handle yourself._ And so, she managed to talk herself into the idea of trusting Patterson just enough to go shopping with her. It seemed silly to think that she couldn't at least manage _that_ much.

Still, her new habit of observing Patterson made Jane realize just how disconnected _all_ of them had become, and how little attention she herself had been paying to anything happening outside of her own head in all the time since she'd been "returned" to the FBI by the team.

Of course, she knew why everyone had splintered so badly – or she thought she did, anyway – and she knew that she couldn't exactly say anything about the way anyone _else_ was handling their emotional baggage. After all, she knew that _she_ was doing nothing _but_ avoiding her problems… Still, once Patterson got herself back on track, it seemed to help the atmosphere among the whole team. The blonde went out of her way to do little things for each of them, and as much as Jane had tried to distance herself emotionally from all of them, even _she_ felt herself breathing a little easier because Patterson was smiling again.

And so, when she finally did ask Patterson for help, it was awkward, but not as much as she would have expected. Patterson, of course, was delighted that Jane had come to her, and insisted that they go as soon as possible. It was only Monday, and she would have loved to devote a whole Saturday to the task, but she couldn't wait that long. Upon reflection, Patterson realized that Jane would probably be less overwhelmed by small doses of shopping anyway, and insisted that they could at least get some browsing done that day after work. Jane agreed, albeit hesitantly, knowing that she needed the help and just wanting the whole thing over with.

In the end, finding the right dress took a considerable amount of searching, and many hours spread over the course of the evenings that week. However, on Friday night they finally found it. The dress was long and black, like both of the ones she'd worn on her formal undercover missions, but unlike those two, the base part of this dress was sleeveless, with spaghetti straps covered in what had to be rhinestones – this fact was only clear because diamonds would have been far outside of her price range.

Of course, a plain sleeveless dress by itself wouldn't have worked for Jane. Now, if she'd had today's confidence without the scars, it would have been perfectly fine, but this year there was more to cover up. As accustomed to her tattoos as most people at the FBI were, she very much wanted to avoid the kind of attention that the CIA inflicted scars would attract. Luckily, however, this dress had the added feature of an attached sort of shawl that covered her shoulders and then flowed right into long sleeves. It was a sheer black material, but not sheer enough that the marks on her skin were visible. In other words, it was simple, and elegant, and perfect for Jane.

That was December ninth, leaving two more weeks before the party. That night, Jane hung the dress in her closet and did her best to forget about it. The dress itself represented an event that she was dreading, but the time she'd spent with Patterson had been okay enough... Awkward at first, but over the course of the hours, and the days, it had slowly gotten easier. It almost felt the way it had a long time ago. She'd forgotten how much she had missed that feeling – the feeling of having a friend. It was a little scary, of course, also knowing what it felt like when that was wrenched away from her, so it was hard to relax completely. She tried to block that part out.

 _It got easier with Patterson, so maybe it would…_ the voice in her head suggested tentatively, but she cut it off before it finished.

 _No,_ she thought. _He's never going to forgive me. And even if he did, I can't take that chance. I just couldn't deal with losing him again._ She had always been stubborn.

And yet, it wasn't just Patterson who was very slowly acting like herself again around Jane, and who was obviously making an effort – though Patterson's recovery may have been the catalyst. She noticed it most with Patterson, but even Reade and Zapata were smiling at her just a little more. While that might feel like almost nothing to someone else, it felt monumental to Jane.

Then, of course, there was the enigma that was Kurt. Some days she felt like they were making progress. On those days he seemed to smile at her more, speak more gently to her, look at her a little longer. It felt… _different_. And then there were days when it seemed like nothing had changed, like he was still angry at her and they hadn't made any progress whatsoever.

Honestly, she was getting tired of trying to keep up with which days were which. She told herself that those days that seemed better must be either all in her head, or he was simply reliving some sort of nostalgia for the past, when things had been good between them, and not realizing how blatantly he was showing it. Surely what was real were the other days, the ones where he looked at her as if she were nothing more than the person who had wronged him, lied to him, betrayed him. After all, she _was_ that person. How could she expect him to look at her in any other way?

On the morning of the party, Jane walked out of the elevator, a large coffee cup in hand after another night of very little sleep, having actually forgotten that the party was happening that night. That was how effective a job she'd done of pushing it out of her mind, despite Patterson's constantly chatting to everyone around her about how the planning was going. Everyone was so happy to see Patterson acting more like herself, they weren't bothered by how often she talked about it, and Jane had simply tuned it out.

Stepping off the elevator, Jane looked around suspiciously. Something was different… and then she realized what it was. Stuck in the corners were boxes that contained the supplies that would be used to set up for the party later that afternoon. Patterson had recruited their team to be among the people helping her set up, but Jane now wasn't sure that she'd be able to do that, since she would have to make an extra trip home in rush hour traffic to get her dress.

 _I wonder if I can just get one of the guys on my detail to go back and get it…_ she mused, already annoyed with the thought of so much wasted time that afternoon, as well as simply the idea of having to spend time at the party to start with. She would rather be sitting in the dark and quiet in her safe house – which was saying a lot, since she dreaded going back there most days.

Either way, the day hadn't even started yet and already her stress level was slowly creeping up. She'd promised Patterson that she would be at the party, but in truth it was still the last pace she wanted to be. Yes, things had improved slightly between herself and team, but she still felt completely separate from them most of the time. Glancing in the direction of Kurt's office, she saw him hunched over his desk, concentrating hard on the papers in front of him with a furrowed brow.

 _Oh, it's going to be one of those days,_ she thought with a sigh. She'd noticed that the days when she came in to find him in that position, making that face, tended not to be the ones that gave her hope for the future of their "friendship," or whatever it was they had. It was easier to say "friendship" than to describe what their relationship actually seemed to be on those days – the fact that they were two people who used to know each other better than anyone else in the world, then were suddenly and tragically reduced to strangers who hated each other, who now didn't seem to know quite how to recover or to figure out what they would be to each other after that. Yes, "friendship" was the easier label, even if it seemed to be a gross misnomer on days like today.

Setting her coffee down beside the workstation that she had claimed only recently, she sat down, her back to Kurt, and forced herself to focus on the work at hand: research on the latest case they were working on. _Maybe,_ she thought, _we'll get lucky and get a break, and the work will spill into tonight._ Then of course she immediately felt guilty about wishing for a way to cancel the party. Patterson had worked so hard on it, and it seemed to be the only thing sustaining her through the past few weeks. Jane had promised herself that she would show up and at least make an attempt to enjoy herself. After everything she'd done _to_ the team, Patterson included, surely she could do that one thing _for_ her.

The day passed at a snail's pace. At around 3:00, no new breaks in their case having arisen, Kurt gave the okay for the team, along with a few other agents, to help Patterson set up for the party. Furniture was moved and tables were set up while Patterson walked around, supervising and delegating as appropriate, ensuring that everything got to where it needed to be. By 5:00 she dismissed them all with her thanks, telling everyone to go and get ready and that she would see them in an hour. Most of them headed to the locker room to shower and change, while a few people slipped out, saying that they were running out but would be back in time.

Jane took her time, pretending she needed to look something up online as she waited until the others had made their way towards the locker room, only then heading for the elevator, blissfully alone for a moment. As she waited for it to return to her floor, she turned to see Kurt in nearly the same position he'd been in that morning, hunched over paperwork on his desk with a scowl on his face. He hadn't been at his desk all day, of course, but it was amusing to see that he'd been there when she arrived and was now there as she left. Not that she was _leaving_ , just going to get ready for the party…

As the elevator doors closed in front of her, she sighed heavily. The day already felt like it had been a long one without the party, which she was dreading – but then again, nearly every day felt that way. No matter what each day brought, it consisted of Jane forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, of forcing herself to keep going. Work kept her busy, though working alongside the team was draining. At the same time, being in her safe house alone was worse in many ways. There was no part of her day that she looked forward to, simply parts that she dreaded more than others. As far as today was concerned, the hard part hadn't even begun yet. She just wasn't sure that she had the energy for this, and yet, she had no choice but to at least _try_.

 _Come on, Jane,_ she told herself, _you've survived_ _ **far**_ _worse things than a party._ And while it wouldn't be physically dangerous, she almost wished that she could be getting ready to do something that was just that at that moment. Better to put herself physically in danger than to subject herself to being the one at the party who didn't belong.

 _That's not true,_ a voice in her head protested weakly, but she didn't even bother to reply. She _knew_ that the weak voice was just going through the motions. _Of course_ she didn't belong there with them, at an event that was supposed to be festive and celebratory. It was like Reade had said when she'd first come back: If she'd never been there, Mayfair would still be alive. She felt a shiver as those words, which had echoed through her head a thousand times before, as they cut through her once again. It was the truth, and there was no denying it. She didn't belong with them, and she never would again. She never _had_ belonged there to start with, they just hadn't known it at the time. Like everything else that she had known since she had woken up as Jane, it had all been a lie.

 _All of it?_ a tiny voice at the back of her mind asked.

The part of her brain that was in charge of keeping her from hoping for anything more than what she had at that moment, from hoping that it would get better, for fear of increasing her suffering, body slammed that little voice into the floor, pounding it into submission until it disappeared from her consciousness. If there was one thing she did not want to have this time, it was hope. She was a monster, one who didn't deserve their forgiveness, and she knew it as well as they did.

A pained sigh escaped her as she stood in the elevator alone, and just for a split second, the ache in her heart was so strong that she backed herself against the wall and grabbed the railing there for support.

 _Get ahold of yourself_ , a cold voice in her mind sneered. _There's no room for weakness here._ She knew Remi's voice anywhere, and though it frightened her, she knew that her "other self" was right.

Jane forced all thoughts from her mind with pure willpower, and the elevator doors opened to reveal her standing there as if nothing in the world could touch her. She stepped out into the hall, already hearing the sounds of her coworkers echoing from the locker room. Normally, she only went through there when it was empty or near empty, and she did that on purpose. The fewer people there, the better, as far as she was concerned. When the locker room was crowded, it was more blatantly obvious when she was shunned. When she went in alone, on the other hand, there was no one to make her feel any worse than she already did – well, except Jane herself. If she could've gotten away from _herself_ , the way everyone else had done months ago, she would have.

But today there was no option to wait until the locker room emptied. She walked the long way around the winding hallway to kill time, but still ended up back at the locker room door only a few minutes later. Sighing in resignation, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open, turning to walk down the row towards her locker and looking down at the floor to avoid the eyes of whoever might be between the door and her destination. She knew the drill. They didn't want to look at her, and she obliged by not looking at them. Even the agents who she barely knew seemed to participate in this process – or maybe they did it even more so than her team, because they didn't know anything real about her, only what they had heard through rumors – which was likely to be more far-fetched than the truth, as impossible as that seemed.

Just then, she tried not to remember the various occasions on which she'd stood in front of Kurt's locker, talking to him, or he'd stood in front of hers. Again, that was what hurt the most – the thoughts of the times she had treasured the most, which only served to remind her of how much she had lost.

Jane opened her locker to find that her detail had indeed gone back to her apartment to get her dress, which was the kind of errand that she made sure _never_ to ask of them. They were FBI agents, after all, not bike messengers, and that kind of thing was far beneath them. However, she had texted Kurt – which seemed silly since they were practically in the same room at the time, only a piece of glass separating them, but it had seemed safer based on the look on his face – and asked his opinion on the subject, and he told her that it was fine. _This time._

She took her towel, dress and toiletries and everything she needed to the shower stall, setting her belongings in the curtained off area outside of the actual shower. Most people took only their towel back to the showers, and then simply changed by their locker – modesty didn't seem to be something they were concerned about, even in the unisex locker room – but Jane had never been one of those people. Long ago, she had been self-conscious only about her tattoos, which now seemed like an unimaginable luxury. Pushing the state of her battered body from her mind, she disrobed and stepped into the spray of the shower, momentarily escaping from all thoughts of the party and everything that it would entail.

Of course, none of her problems were magically erased by the steam from the shower, and they were all still waiting for her like loyal puppies when she got back out a few minutes later – but oh, what a nice reprieve it had been in the midst of a stressful day.

Dressing quickly – she didn't like to be naked any longer than absolutely necessary with her body in the state that it was in, especially on FBI premises – she soon discovered the one major flaw in her whole getting ready plan. As was very normal, her dress had a long zipper down the back of it, and, just like the other two times… she couldn't zip it all the way up on her own. Even if she _had_ spotted anyone from her team in the locker room when she'd come in, she wouldn't have asked them for help, however. No, _especially_ not them.

The scars on her upper back, especially, just below the line of the dress where the sheer material started, were gruesome. She couldn't subject anyone else to having to see that – to having to see _her_. She'd somehow managed to shop with Patterson for five afternoons in a row and never asked for her help with a zipper once, not even on this very dress. Had she just not zipped it all the way when she'd tried it on? That now seemed like a distinct possibility. The question was, who had she _thought_ would help her with it when it came time to wear this dress, anyway?

But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was that her current tiny problem seemed insurmountable. Leaning her forehead against the cool surface of the smooth cubicle wall that separated the dressing areas from each other, she willed herself not to cry in frustration – even though she could already feel the tears in her eyes. There _was_ a way to do this. She just had to _find_ it.

However, she could feel herself beginning to panic when the minutes ticked by and she couldn't think of a single way to solve this problem herself. She could speak six languages – or more, because _who knew?_ – she could defeat enemies twice her size in hand to hand combat… but here she was, sitting in the locker room on the verge of tears because of a _goddamn zipper_ , just because she couldn't reach the middle of her back? It was simply unacceptable.

The tears were on her cheeks now, as she sank down into the seat that was built into the corner of the cubicle. She didn't try to fight them, which would have meant sniffling, and there was no way in hell she was going to make any noise that let anyone else know that she was in here crying. She tried to think of a solution to this problem that didn't involve terrifying anyone else with her disfigurement, but kept coming up short.

Then suddenly, she realized that she had her phone. It was far from ideal, the idea that had popped into her head, and she would have done it only as an absolute last resort… and yet, that was exactly what she needed now. A last resort. Taking out her phone, she opened the most recent text window – from that morning, when she'd texted Kurt about her detail picking up her dress.

After editing the message that she'd just written to him at least five times, it finally read simply, _Are you busy?_ Before she sent it, she closed her eyes and tried to steady herself, but she couldn't shake the feeling of self-loathing that she felt at having to do something this stupid. And yet, unable to think of a better option, she pressed Send.

A second later, Kurt's phone buzzed on his desk in front of him. _What now?_ he thought impatiently. _I'm trying to finish up this pile so I can go and get ready for the party, and I'm going to be late…_ He glanced up and saw that the message was from Jane, his brow creasing. _Why is she texting me again?_ he wondered. _Isn't she right…_ he looked out at the area outside his office and saw that not only was Jane _not_ right there, but the bullpen had been seemingly transformed while he'd had his nose in his paperwork. He almost didn't recognize the area.

 _She must be in the locker room,_ he thought, trying to think of why she might be texting him from there. Then he returned to her question, of whether he was busy. _Of course I'm busy,_ he thought as he simply typed the word, _Yes_ , while thinking to himself, _I'm always busy._ After he pressed Send, however, he felt slightly guilty. This was Jane, and she wasn't just texting him to chat. She must need _something_ , because Jane prided herself on not asking for help. Not _ever_ … not from anymore.

 _Yes,_ came his succinct reply, and for some reason that one word stung her. She set the phone down quickly, as if it had burned her fingers, and just stared at it. What had she expected, exactly? And why was she suddenly staring at the phone as if it was someone she'd known well once, but who had just turned into a different person before her eyes? The _phone_ hadn't done that, of course, but she did feel like Kurt _had_ , though it had happened a while ago.

A second later, another text popped up on her screen. _Why?_ it read simply.

 _No, never mind_ , she replied quickly, turning off her screen and fighting off the panic that was rising inside her.

 _It's fine,_ she told herself. _I'm fine. I can do this…_

The problem was that she knew that she wasn't fine. She also knew 100% for sure that she didn't need to be this upset, that she was being absolutely _ridiculous_ , but she couldn't help herself. Because what could she do? There weren't many times when she'd felt this helpless, and she hated herself for it – as if she needed _another_ reason to hate herself – and all over a stupid _zipper_.

But her phone buzzed again, to her surprise. It was Kurt. Apparently now she had his attention.

 _What's wrong?_ his text asked. She stared at the screen, hoping that if she looked at it hard enough, she could make him believe that nothing was wrong. Of course, if she typed nothing, he would likely track her phone and show up there anyway, so she decided she'd better answer.

 _Nothing_ , she replied with shaking fingers.

 _Jane, you didn't text me for nothing. You don't ever ask for help unless you're desperate. Where are you?_

Sighing, she knew that she wasn't going to get out of this now, and after all, she _had_ been the one to start it…

 _Locker room,_ she typed in resignation.

 _Be right there_ , he replied.

Leaning her head against the side of the cubicle wall once again, she felt completely drained. All she wanted at that moment was to go home and climb into bed… but it wasn't happening and she knew it, so she attempted to push the idea out of her head as she waited for him to show up.

In far less time than she had expected, she heard his voice greeting other agents as he walked through the locker room, looking for her.

Another text popped up on her screen. _Where are you?_

 _Showers_ , she replied, and immediately heard his voice coming in her direction as he continued to talk to people he saw along the way.

"Jane?" His voice was just outside the curtain now, and it was full of concern – more than she could remember hearing from him in a very long time. In a way, just hearing that tone again after so long was enough to threaten to open some very deep, and not very well healed wounds. She stood up slowly, stepping forward and moving the curtain slightly, enough to reveal her whereabouts to him.

As he stepped forward towards her, looking her quickly up and down, he saw that she was wearing a long black dress that expertly hid what he knew – though he had not seen them – were the scars left by her time at the CIA. At least, he knew of them in theory. In reality, he'd tried his best not to think about them. Why would he? The idea was disturbing enough. He felt guilty for this, sure that it showed only how weak he was, but so far he'd had no reason to confront this particular issue.

She stood just inside the curtain, appearing dressed for the party but looking up at him with – what _was_ that look in her eyes? Apprehension? _Fear?_ What could possibly be wrong?

He was standing only inches from her now, acutely aware that there was a complete lack of privacy in the locker room at the moment, with so many ears nearby to hear anything they might say above a hushed whisper. It was obvious that something was very wrong, at least in Jane's mind. "Jane, what's wrong?" he whispered, growing more concerned every second.

For a split second she just stared at him. He hadn't shown this much concern for her in… she couldn't even remember how long it had been. Not since… _before_ …

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and tilted her head downward for a second, then looked back up at him. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd burst into tears at that moment, and upon inspecting her face more closely, it appeared that she'd already been crying. She pursed her lips for a second, and then, with what obviously took a great effort, she whispered, "I can't get the…" A pause for a breath, then, "… the _zipper_ … but…" He tilted his head thoughtfully, because why would something like that upset her? He'd even zipped up her dress the last time they'd gone undercover, after the CIA… She could have just _asked_ … There was an important piece that he was missing, and he just needed to figure it out... Looking down at her dress, he saw that the fabric was much more delicate, sheerer than what her previous dress had been made of. Maybe that had something to do with it.

She _knew_ that she was acting like a crazy person, tears now rolling down her cheeks over something as stupid as a zipper, except that it wasn't the _zipper_ that was the problem, it was what was under her dress and her inability to get the damn thing zipped up without exposing something about herself that she didn't want _anyone_ to see.

Without a second thought about what his actions would look like if anyone was watching, he leaned closer to her and whispered, "Step back." She was so distraught that she did so without even trying to figure out why he was asking that of her. In almost the same motion, he stepped forward, and then turned to pull the curtain closed behind him. He didn't care what his joining her inside the curtain might look like, if anyone had even noticed that he'd stepped inside with her. All he knew was that she was breaking down before his eyes, and she didn't need an audience. At that moment it didn't matter that he hadn't been in this role for a very long time – the person who talked Jane down when she was at her weakest. He stepped back into it without hesitation, without giving it a second thought, as if the past few months had never happened.

They were now standing closer than they had in a very, very long time, and her heart was thundering in her chest, her stomach so upset she only hoped that she wasn't going to throw up, since he was standing right in front of her. That would make things even worse. Slowly, he put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her calmly. "Jane," he whispered. "Keep breathing."

She heard those same words in her head from so long ago, and it almost made her laugh and cry at the same time. It was one of her most bittersweet memories. Sweet because of how cared about she had felt when he'd said it the first time, and bitter because of everything that had come after it… and because of this Purgatory where they'd ended up, neither able to be together or to be separate.

He looked into her eyes, concern filling his, and she felt her breathing slowly return to normal. His hands remained on her shoulders as he stood perfectly still, watching her watching him. Once she seemed calmer, with his hands still on her shoulders, he attempted to turn her around. The look in her eyes turned to panic again, and her head began shaking quickly as tears sprung back to her eyes. No words escaped from her, only the silent plea in her eyes. _No!_ it screamed silently _._

"Sshhhh," he told her soothingly, pushing her shoulders a little more insistently, still trying to get her to turn. "It's okay." After one more pained look, she gave up fighting him and simply allowed him to spin her until her back faced him. She felt herself flush all over in mortification, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

The zipper was open for the last three inches at the top of her dress, and he could see the difference between the last time he'd zipped her dress and this time. As he'd guessed, the previous dress had been made of stiffer fabric, so that nothing but the tiniest line of the white of her skin had been visible. This dress, however, was made of a much softer fabric, one that didn't stand up on its own. In the inches where the zipper was down, the sides of the dress gaped open, revealing more than one patch of badly mangled tattoos. _This_ was what she didn't want anyone to see, why she hadn't wanted to ask anyone for help, and had come to him only as a last resort. As an _only_ resort.

Despite how fraught their relationship still was, he couldn't help but feel sympathy crash over him in a wave just then. This wasn't new, she had been silently living with this, he realized. He felt guilty for the fact that he could sweep everything that had happened under the rug, so to speak, and suppress it because he didn't know how best to deal with it, while she was left with literal _scars_ , not just emotional ones. His hands came up to pull the zipper up, but before he did, his fingers just barely grazed the skin that the zipper revealed – it looked like it had been burned – purposely and repeatedly – in that area, and he could only imagine what the rest looked like.

She tensed, feelings his fingers on her back, and braced herself for a horrified reaction. Surely there couldn't be any other kind. Instead, his fingers settled against her skin and lingered for a moment where they were. Then when they finally moved, they brushed against her skin ever so slightly before they moved out of the way so that that he could pull up her zipper. There was no reason for his hands to be there any longer, and he slowly let them drop to his sides.

Jane stood still, frozen in place and now unable to turn around and face him. The problem was solved, but how could she look at him now? She couldn't bear to see the expression that she knew would be on his face.

 _How do you_ _ **know**_ _?_ the voice in her head demanded. _He's not some stranger, he's_ _ **Kurt**_ _._

 _It doesn't matter who he is,_ she told the voice. _It's disgusting._

 _At least give him a_ _ **chance**_ _to act like a decent human being,_ the voice insisted. And so, on advice that she knew was bad, she did the thing she knew that she would regret and slowly turned around to face him. However, she still couldn't force herself to meet his eyes, and simply kept hers focused at a downward angle, looking at the bright white of his shirt.

"Jane," he whispered calmly, his voice like a balm for everything inside her that hurt, so much so that it terrified her even further, "Look at me." She shook her head stubbornly, and despite the situation, he couldn't help but chuckle. Her eyes immediately narrowed at the sound of his laughter, and her face became pained. "I'm sorry," he said so softly that she barely heard him, "but you're so cute when you're being stubborn." He watched as her face relaxed slightly, and he tried again. "Will you please look at me?"

 _Here goes nothing_ , she thought, bracing herself as she slowly raised her eyes, and then her head, in his direction.

Their eyes met and locked for seconds that seemed to go on and on before either of them dared to move or speak. "I'm sorry, Jane," he whispered.

 _For which part?_ she wanted to scream. Except that it wasn't his fault, of course. It was hers. It didn't make sense, but at the same time that she blamed him for the CIA's treatment of her, in her head, she simultaneously blamed herself exclusively.

She was already shaking her head, but when he didn't try to say anything else, she slowly stopped moving, feeling the fight quickly drain out of her, as they simply stared at each other. As she stood there, unable to look away, she felt her panic subside and her breathing stabilize.

"Okay?" he asked, to which she simply nodded. He smiled then, knowing that this was neither the time nor the place for a more in depth conversation on the topic. Seeing her calm once more, he whispered, "Well since I'm in the locker room, I may as well just go and get ready. I need to get back and finish up before the party. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," she replied almost without a sound.

"Alright, then I'll see you at the party," he replied, smiling at her sincerely. She swore that she couldn't remember the last time she saw this side of him… it had been weeks, if not more, since he was anywhere near this kind to her. Turning partway around, he reached for the curtain and pushed it aside just enough to step backwards, back out of the cubicle, then closing the curtain again, leaving her there to do whatever she needed to do and heading for his own locker.


	3. Maybe

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: You guys continue to overwhelm me with your reviews. Thank you so much. Though I wrote what I thought was nearly all of the story before I started posting it, I'm continuing to add to it as I go back for what I'm sure will be "quick read throughs" (really there are no such thing with me, I'm not sure when I'll learn this). I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. And rereading it. And adding to it. Etc etc… :)_

Jane sat back on the seat in the cubicle, trying to process exactly what had just happened. She couldn't remember Kurt acting that way with her since… well, since _before_. What exactly had brought about the change? Why had he been so insistent on helping her when he hadn't even know what was wrong… when she'd _insisted_ that nothing was wrong? Why was he suddenly acting like he cared?

 _Because he knows you,_ the voice in her head said as if it was obvious. _And despite how he's been acting, he obviously cares about you_.

But the idea was too foreign to her, something that she could no longer reconcile with her reality, with everything that had come between them. So she sat there on the seat, staring at the wall in front of her and trying to work it all out in her head. Slowly, the sounds in the rest of the locker room died away, and she imagined that it must be almost time for the party to have started. Still, she couldn't bring herself to get up and leave the safety of her small sanctuary. She preferred it there, even though she knew that she couldn't stay.

Finally, when the room was perfectly silent, she stood up and gathered her belongings in her arms, pulled back the curtain, and walked through the empty room back to her locker, depositing her things inside and closing the door quietly. Before she left, she went around the corner and stood in front of the large mirror that was mounted to the wall, just standing there staring at herself until her eyes became unfocused and she stopped actually seeing herself, seeing only a fuzzy blob of black in front of her.

She heard his voice in her head then, for some reason. _Come on, Jane,_ it said. _You can't hide in here all night. Go and join the party._ Sighing heavily, because she really didn't want to go, she decided that it was time to get it over with. Without stopping to look at herself again, she turned and walked toward the door, making her way to the elevator, her glittering heels making a tapping noise on the floor to which she was not accustomed.

Only a few minutes later, Jane stepped off of the elevator, looking around in astonishment. It wasn't like the bullpen area that she knew should be on the other side of the elevator doors. Was there some mistake? Because this simply couldn't be the same place that she'd worked for most of time that she could remember... even though she'd help to set this up, the transformation even since the last time _she_ 'd been there was incredible.

There were strings of tiny white Christmas lights _everywhere_. She had been one of the people helping to put them up, but she hadn't had a concept of how they would look once they were all turned on, and it surprised her. The lights lined the edges of the ceiling where they met the walls, then cascaded down the walls. They were wrapped around door handles, computer monitors, desks, chairs… All of the furniture had been pushed against the walls, creating a giant, open area.

The twinkling of what must have been hundreds – maybe thousands? – of those little lights cast a glow over the whole room that left her speechless. It was as if she'd stepped into a dream. Come to think of it, was she _sure_ that this wasn't a dream? She'd been having her fair share of dreams – both good (which tortured her with what she didn't have) and bad (which just continued the psychological torture to which she'd decided would probably never end) – over the months since she'd escaped from the CIA black site. Hell, that run in with Kurt in the locker room not long before had been unusual enough that it all _could_ have been some kind of strange dream.

"Jane!" she heard her name being called from somewhere nearby, but she was slow to react, as mesmerized as she still was by her immediate surroundings. She tried to focus on finding the person who was calling her, but she simply couldn't concentrate. The stress of the day and now the new stimuli was simply proving to be too much for her.

In addition to hearing her name, she also heard music coming from somewhere, but she couldn't immediately locate the source. Patterson no doubt had her hand in it, or at least Jane assumed so. And then suddenly it was Patterson herself, the one who had been calling her, who was now beside her and chatting a mile a minute. She was obviously excited and wanted to tell Jane all about it.

As Jane listened to Patterson, nodding along, she also kept her ears tuned into the music, which she determined to be a mix of Christmas songs – only a few of which Jane actually recognized – along with some other, non-holiday tunes. Most of those seemed to be slower songs, probably thrown in for variety. The effect of everything together – the lights, the music, the decoration and the festive atmosphere – was breathtaking, which was exactly why she'd barely said anything since she'd stepped off of the elevator. She was simply speechless.

"So," Patterson beamed, looking around. "What do you think?" When Jane recovered the power of speech, she replied, "It looks… _amazing_. I didn't even know that Christmas lights could _do_ this…" There was actual wonder in Jane's voice as she looked around again, mesmerized by the glow in the room.

Patterson's wide smile was the biggest that any of them had seen on her face in a long time, which made Jane smile, too. "I always loved Christmas lights… in college I would leave them up in my dorm room _all year_. There's just something about them…" she mused happily. "And it just seemed appropriate for this year. You know, things have been _so_ dark…" she paused carefully, giving Jane a knowing look. Jane's smile dimmed slightly and she nodded in agreement. "I suddenly saw a hint of light in all that darkness, and I wanted to be sure that you guys did, too."

Jane noticed that Patterson's eyes were suddenly suspiciously watery, and realized that her own were as well. The thought process that had gone into the decorations, into the lights and the candles… it was beautiful, and so very much like Patterson. The Patterson that she had first met so long ago, not the one who'd been so wronged by the events that had befallen her because of Jane's presence. _Because both of those tragedies were my fault_ , Jane thought in dismay. _David_ _ **and**_ _Borden. Both of those were my fault._

Patterson watched in confusion as Jane's face, which had been alight with happiness a second ago, suddenly crumbled. "I'm sorry, Patterson," Jane said softly. Amid the din in the room, the blonde almost didn't hear her. Ever the puzzle solver, Patterson followed the thread of the conversation backward for the last minute and guessed at what Jane was apologizing for.

 _Hasn't this poor woman been through enough?_ Patterson asked silently. _Why is she allowed to torture herself after everything else that's been done to her?_ Without hesitating to think about the fact that the Jane who had come back from the CIA a few months back might not react the same way to a hug as the one who she'd known before all of that, Patterson stepped forward and hugged her anyway.

"It's not your fault, Jane. No matter what it feels like. It was a thousand tiny things that just… _happened_. You can't put all of it on you any more than I can. And trust me, after David, I _tried_. But you can't do that to yourself. Nothing is that simple. Okay?"

Jane just nodded, still not believing her, but rearranging her face to put the mask back on, the one that she'd been wearing for a while now to hide her emotions from everyone – herself included. When Patterson released her and stepped back, looking at her appraisingly, Jane did her best to smile at her.

"You did an amazing job with the party," Jane told her, attempting to deflect the attention back off of herself. "You should be really proud." Her words were genuine, because Patterson _had_ done an amazing job. And what she'd said about the lights before… the effect was exactly what she'd wanted, as far as Jane was concerned. Standing there with her, looking around, Jane _was_ able to forget the darkness of her mind, of her life, for just a moment. That in and of itself was something of a miracle.

Patterson blushed and thanked her just as an agent that Jane only knew of vaguely walked up and said, "Um, Agent Patterson, we have a problem with the caterers." Smiling apologetically, she excused herself and took off across the room to solve whatever party related issue had come up. Jane's attention quickly drifted back to the lights and the buzz that surrounded her. She had the strangest sensation of standing in the middle of a busy gathering, and yet of being there completely alone at the same time.

After Patterson ran off to deal with the catering situation, Jane walked around the room in awe, admiring everything. There were quite a few – maybe six or seven – large, round tables set up off to one side of the room, adorned with white tablecloths, circular silver trays and, on those, thick white cylindrical candles of all sizes, which cast an even more intense glow on the tables. It was their office, and yet… it wasn't. Looking up in the direction of Kurt's office, she saw him, formally dressed but sitting at his desk, head bent over what appeared to be paperwork. She shook her head, sighing, a tiny smile on her face. Really, she couldn't help but smile when she looked at him.

 _Of course he's working_ , she thought. That was the flaw in Patterson's plan to hold the party in the office. However, she supposed that the other woman would put a stop to that as soon as she caught him in there.

 _ **You**_ _could go in and tell him to come out and join the party,_ the voice in her head suggested helpfully. In a way, she wanted to… but at the same time, she hesitated to interrupt him. She still hesitated around him a lot these days, despite how much better things had gotten between them since she'd come back. So much had happened to each other them, and between them, that sometimes, when she thought about it, it seemed like a wonder that they'd come as far as they had. And then other times, like now, it felt like there was still an ocean between them, one that she didn't feel like she had any right to try to bridge. No, she had made her choices. She didn't deserve a second chance.

 _But what if you do?_ the voice in her head asked. _Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?_

Looking away from him quickly, before he caught her watching him, she couldn't help but think miserably to herself that she'd already _used_ her second chance. After all, being Jane _had been_ her second chance. Hers… Remi's. Same thing. She had no right to ask him for anything anymore.

 _Are you sure?_ the voice asked her. _Haven't you seen the way he looks at you? Especially when he thinks you're not looking… and what about the locker room just a little while ago. What exactly was_ _ **that**_ _?_

She felt a pain in her chest and her eyes closed against her will for a second. Forcing herself to breathe and then opening her eyes as if nothing had happened, the moment passed. Things were going as well as could be expected between her and Kurt – no, better than she had expected they could, all things considered. That was what she needed to focus on, to manage her expectations and not let herself hope that they would be anything more than what they were to each other already. Polite coworkers. He'd called her a friend not _too_ long ago, but even that seemed too complicated. Maybe someday they could be what would be considered friends, but now… no, she couldn't let herself hope – it was too painful. She hadn't grown a thick skin over her heart yet, despite her best efforts, and she wasn't sure that she ever would. Maybe that ability had been erased along with her memories of the life that she no longer _wanted to_ remember.

There were lots of people milling about – her team, but also other agents that she only knew by sight, not by name. Everyone was engaged in conversation, smiling at each other, talking, laughing, glasses and silverware clinking… The party seemed to be a great success. And Jane had the sudden feeling that she had to get out of there. _Now._

She also had the same feeling that she'd had while talking to Patterson. The feeling that it was all her fault, but magnified by a thousand or more. The reason that these people _needed_ this party, the reason they'd all had a year of Hell, was because of her. No matter how many times she was told that it wasn't her fault – and really, all things considered, she hadn't been told that _that_ many times since she'd been back – she knew the truth.

 _You haven't heard it much because it_ _ **is**_ _your fault,_ the voice in her head told her coldly. _Anyone who says that it wasn't your fault is lying to you. It's your fault, and you_ _ **know**_ _it._

Jane felt herself begin to panic. _I can't do this…_ she thought suddenly. _I don't belong here_.

She saw Zapata and Reade across the room, teasing each other what appeared to be mercilessly. Patterson was surrounded by a group of junior agents, as if she was a rock star and they were her fan club. She didn't dare glance back at Kurt again, for fear he'd catch her looking at him. The other faces in the room, even the unfamiliar ones… the longer she stood there looking around at everyone enjoying themselves, the more she felt like she shouldn't be there. After all, look at everything that happened to these people because of her. And what about the many other people who _weren't_ there, who hadn't _lived_ to be invited. That was the thought that really got to her.

Deciding to move deliberately, but not too quickly, not wanting to attract any more attention than normal, she moved toward the far end of the room, where the hallway would take her away from the bullpen, which was the area that had been designated for the party. From there, she could slip into the stairwell and simply retreat without anyone seeing her.

Since she was pretending that she was just heading away from the party to go to the bathroom, if anyone asked her, she didn't look back over her shoulder. After all, people who were just going to the bathroom didn't care if anyone was watching them walk away. Because of this, she was already in the stairwell, about to tackle the first of many, many floors in her uncomfortable, sparkly heels, before she even realized that anyone was following her.

"Jane." The voice was close behind her. _His_ voice. The door creaked slowly closed behind them, and the noise of the party disappeared.

Of course it was him. Of the few people who would have followed her – because the others on her team _may_ have, if they'd really wondered what she was doing… but _of course_ it had been Kurt who'd followed her. It figured.

She tried to compose her face into a smile, tried to formulate what she was going to say, all before she turned around to face him – which she did very slowly for just these reasons.

When her eyes met his, he was watching her, confused. "What're you doing? You're not leaving, are you?"

 _Of course I'm leaving,_ she thought miserably. _I shouldn't have been here in the first place._

"I…" She'd just barely managed to cobble together a relatively pathetic story in her head when she'd realized that she'd been caught, but those feeble words simply refused to come out. After all, was she really going to lie to him? Hadn't she done enough of that? Besides, it wasn't as though he'd believe her even if she tried. He would simply know that she'd lied to him. _Again._

"I just…" She tried again. This time, the truth. "Everything looks beautiful in there… and I know that Patterson and a bunch of other people worked really hard on it… I just…" Shrugging, she looked away from him, and suddenly her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't belong there."

She heard him move as he took a step closer to her, and she looked up in alarm. _No,_ she thought. _I need him to keep his distance. If he starts getting close…_

Kurt saw the look of panic on her face, and it stopped him in his tracks. _Why would she be afraid of me?_ he wondered. Things were… Well, admittedly things were still strained between them, and they probably would be for a while… maybe forever. But lately they'd both been going out of their way to do nice things for each other – little, inconsequential things, like bringing the other one coffee or holding a door open. Things that in and of themselves didn't have to mean anything. But what had happened earlier… it had felt like a breakthrough to him.

 _Maybe it was more terrifying than anything else, in her mind_ , he suggested to himself. After all, Jane's default is to retreat. Knowing this, he decided not to push too hard, but to try to find out what was wrong. He certainly couldn't let her leave this way.

Kurt thought back to the recent weeks that were mainly a blur of paperwork and tattoo cases in his mind, trying to week out his memories of Jane from the rest of it. Even now, Jane still seemed very reserved, and appeared surprised for just a second whenever anyone – himself included – said or did something nice for her. As if she hadn't expected that to happen anymore. It was hard to watch, but he supposed that they all deserved that. All of them had been through a lot over the past six months or so, but Jane had been _tortured_. Sometimes it seemed that she was still torturing herself, try as he might to do a better job at being a friend to her, to show her than he could be trusted. He knew that he'd done a crappy job of that initially, when she'd first come back, but dammit, he was trying now.

 _Are you really, though?_ he asked himself. _Or is that just what you're telling yourself? Do you think it's been coming across that way to Jane?_ He sighed softly, because he supposed that it hadn't come across to Jane. He'd been so busy, he'd just sort of assumed that she knew what he was thinking. In his defense, there had been a time when she would have. _But back then you also would have given her enough clues for her to figure it out_ , the voice in his head pointed out.

Freezing in place, Kurt put his hands up in front of him in a move of surrender, and the momentary panic on Jane's face slowly faded. For a minute he just watched her, worried. She reminded him of a scared animal who'd been cornered.

"Jane, you don't really think that… do you?" he said quietly, in disbelief. "Because it's _not true_." He sighed heavily, then continued talking. "I know that…" he started, but stopped. What was he trying to say, anyway? He took the few steps that separated him from the wall to his right, and turned to lean his back against the cold concrete, facing her but looking down at the floor for several long seconds. When he finally looked back up at her, he started again.

"I know that none of this… has been easy. And I know that no words can even begin to describe how impossible your situation is. If I were you, I would probably feel, I don't even _know_ …" He exhaled in frustration, scrubbing his hands across his face and then back through his hair. "A million things and nothing at the same time. Every bad thing you can possibly think about yourself, right? And at the same time just… empty?"

She stared at him in horror, realizing that he had just described exactly how she felt. How had _he_ known that, when she'd been trying for months to describe and it had failed miserably? What was worse, she had been trying not to let anyone knew what she thought or felt, which she had obviously failed at.

"I'm not saying that you _should_ feel that, because I know what you're doing to yourself, and it's not fair to you. But that's what _I_ would be thinking, I think." He smiled weakly then, adding, "And we always did kind of understand each other, somehow, even when it didn't make sense. Even though…" He stopped, looking at her and biting his lip.

 _Damn_ , he thought. _I wasn't going to say that._

"Even though I wasn't Taylor, after all," she whispered, finishing his sentence. She stared at him for a few seconds and then looked away.

He shook his head to clear the thought from his head, going back to his point. "But at some point you have to stop trying to blame yourself for all of it," he told her. It was the first time since she'd been back that he'd said these words, either in his head or out loud, and meant them.

She nodded silently, and he noticed that she looked torn. She was still standing by the stairs, and he couldn't tell whether she would decide to bolt either up or down them any second, or whether he had managed to get through to her, to convince her to stay. More than anything, he didn't want her to just leave. He knew that he hadn't done a great job of showing it – apparently even worse than he'd thought, if she was sneaking out of the party – but he wanted to get back to a place where things were good between them. Whatever that meant.

It didn't matter that she wasn't Taylor – it never really had, he just hadn't realized it – she was Jane, and Jane was the one he needed in his life. These realizations had been slow and painful, but now that he'd had them, he couldn't get them out of his head. It was like what had happened that afternoon had flipped a switch, and reminded him that she was the same person he'd cared so much about before their worlds had come crashing down around them – _both of them._

She was more than just one mistake. Or more than a collection of them, even. She was someone that he couldn't picture going on with his life without, no matter what he had tried to tell himself to the contrary.

Very slowly, she walked over to the wall and stood beside him, her back now also against the cold concrete. The difference was, of course, that he was wearing a shirt and jacket, and she was wearing a dress that was partially almost backless and sleeveless – that flimsy layer of sheer fabric that hid her scars barely counted as anything other than fancy camouflage. Consequently, when what was basically her bare skin touched the concrete wall, a chill ran through her unexpectedly and for a second the movement was visible. He noticed that despite this, she kept her back pressed against the wall.

 _She must be freezing,_ he thought, pressing his hand against the wall to confirm that the concrete was, indeed, very cold.

"I guess the wall feels pretty cold when you don't have a couple layers between you and it, huh?" he asked, trying to make conversation, because suddenly he was at a loss for anything else to say. She was standing beside him, having left only a tiny space between their shoulders, and yet it felt like they were looking at each other from opposite sides of the world. What made it worse was when she looked up at him and smiled sadly.

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied quietly.

"Do you want to go back in?" he asked, nodding back toward the door that led into the hallway. _Hoping_.

"No," she replied quietly. "But you should. And you're not going to let me leave, are you?" she asked with a sigh. Without waiting for a response, she sank down to sit on the floor, stopping only to smooth out her dress beneath her, then leaning her back squarely against the wall with a sigh.

When she realized that the floor was freezing as well, she almost regretted her decision… except that she'd been through so much worse, feeling a little cold was nothing. Really, nothing seemed to bother that much since she'd been back – not hunger or cold or exhaustion or pain – after all, each of these sensations in normal doses was anything compared to what she had endured for three months. Now it was as though her senses were dulled, and normal feelings simply didn't affect her. She'd done the same with her emotions during that time, simply locked them away, and she was only slowly feeling them again. Except guilt. She felt that constantly.

 _Since she isn't going to go back in,_ he thought, _and she isn't leaving…_ Before he could even finish his thought, he had taken off his jacket and was crouching down beside her.

"Sit up for a second," he said, holding his jacket up and waiting to slide it down behind her shoulders.

She shook her head in protest, and started to argue, but he silenced her with the look on his face. "Jane, it's cold."

"I've had worse," she replied, staring straight ahead.

"Jane, please don't be like that," he said softly. "You have nothing to prove to me, okay? No matter _what_ the situation, you've been through worse. I _know_. I know very well that you could kick my ass if you wanted to… and you should, because God knows I deserve that and worse. And no, I couldn't stop you from leaving if you decided to leave. But…" he paused for a second, willing her to look at him. When she didn't, he sighed and simply continued. "I hope you'll stick around. Patterson went to the trouble of putting together a pretty great party, and I know that it means a lot to her that we're there. But that's not why I think you should – why I _want_ you to stay."

She looked up at him in defiance. "So why, then?" she asked, more bluntly than she'd intended.

"Because… I'm selfish. I just hope you'll stay, because I want you to be here…" He paused uncertainly, and then added, "With me." They stared at each other for a few intense seconds, and then he continued. "And I know that I treated you horribly, and I have no right to ask anything of you at this point… I know that being angry with what happened was no excuse for the choices I made… that I've _been_ making…"

Only then did she look up at him, confused. What he was saying simply didn't make sense to her. Why was it so important that she was there? Thrown off by his words, she sat forward, staring at him with a perplexed look on her face. He took advantage of this distraction and slid his jacket behind her, putting it down gently over her shoulders. Once that was done, he sat the rest of the way down, turning to lean back against the wall beside her. She kept looking at him, then turned to stare at the wall in front of them, only to turn and back and look at him in confusion once more a minute later.

"I don't understand," she said defensively. A minute passed where neither of them spoke, and then she added, "Why?"

"Why what?" he asked, equally confused.

"Why in the world would you want me to be here?" she replied.

He sighed heavily. The fact that she was so completely confused by him just then told him that he hadn't done a very good job of getting through to her, definitely not as well as he'd thought he'd done.

"I don't know how we do this…" he began slowly, looking at her intently for a reaction as he spoke. "I don't know how to… fix it. But I do want to, Jane. I know that the way we – I – treated you wasn't right. I meant it when I said I wanted us to move forward. I want…" He pursed his lips, thinking for a second. What he _wanted_ might be impossible, and he didn't even know if he had the right to ask for such a thing, after everything. Settling on different wording than what he'd originally intended, he continued. "I just… I miss having you in my life."

The look in her eyes just then was a mixture of emotions that he couldn't read. Even she herself wasn't quite sure of what she was feeling as she turned to look at him for what felt to him like a long time before she replied. Once upon a time, he'd been able to read her, and even now, sometimes he could. There were glimpses of the old Jane, the one he'd known before everything had gotten so complicated. He wish he knew the right thing to do for the Jane in front of him, because she was obviously conflicted. He'd always seemed to know how to help the old Jane, the one who he could soothe by simply taking her hand. He missed that certainty. He missed _her_.

It went against every instinct and every urge inside her to trust him again. Hadn't she promised herself that she wouldn't trust _anyone_ anymore? How could she survive if she couldn't keep herself safe? And how could she keep herself safe if she let someone get too close? If she let _him_ get to close, especially. He wasn't just a stranger who had the potential to be a good person. No, he was her kryptonite. Their history already proved that he couldn't be trusted… _didn't it_? Or did it prove exactly the opposite? 

_You know that it's not that simple, Jane,_ the voice in her head said calmly. _You both did some things to each other that the other has every right to find unforgiveable. But is that really how you want to live? Never getting close to anyone? Without_ _ **him**_ _in your life? Ever again? Forget about keeping yourself safe for one second and really think about that…_

Of course it wasn't what she wanted. Who would ever want to live the way she was – cutting themselves off from everything and everyone in the world and smiling as if everything was fine? No, it was a defense mechanism, and as much as she _knew_ that, knew that she needed to at least _try_ to deal with what had happened between them in the past… What it came down to was, she was just so tired of hurting, and this was the only way she knew to keep from being hurt. Because if she didn't give anyone the chance to hurt her, it couldn't happen. Right?

 _But aren't you hurting_ _ **now**_ _?_ the voice asked calmly. _Shutting him out isn't working and you know it._

 _Damn, I hate when you make sense,_ she told the voice silently.

She felt his eyes on her, knew that he was still watching her carefully, and knew that she was going to have to reply somehow… The worst part, of course, was that she felt exactly the same about him, and she had for some time now. She missed the days when he'd been a part of her life. Now they just existed in the same reality, saw each other every day, but it wasn't the same. They were both there, but _not_ there at the same time, and it was even worse than if she _didn't_ see him every day. After all, at least then she wouldn't have to be constantly reminded of what she'd thrown away.

 _ **You did this to yourself.**_ _At every turn along the way. And for what?_ she asked herself. _Was it all worth it?_

He didn't say anything, simply waited, watching her, knowing that she'd heard him and was simply processing it all. Nothing about Jane had ever been simple, but now, after everything they'd been through already, when he thought back to the early days, before he'd known about Sandstorm, it did feel as if it had been simple. Somehow he resisted the urge to reach out to her, wondering how long he could keep himself from doing so. Jane was good at so many things… and it appeared that torturing herself with her thoughts was one of them. Not that it wasn't understandable, after everything she'd been through…

Suddenly she spoke, her voice small and quiet. "Me, too," she whispered, and then as if she hadn't been holding herself back all this time, from him and from everyone else in the world, she leaned over just until her head rested on his shoulder.

It was the smallest of gestures, when seen objectively, but when Kurt felt her head against his shoulder, he couldn't help but feel as though somehow, between the two of them, they had moved a mountain. There was so much between them, and yet… there she was, leaning on him for support, something she had not allowed herself to do for a very long time. He was flooded with both surprise and relief, and a feeling of hope.

 _We've made it this far,_ he thought. _Maybe._

 _A/N: Really, I have the thing about Christmas lights that Patterson was talking about. I love them. :)_


	4. I Wish

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

Jane's head was leaned against his shoulder, and for a second he held his breath. If someone had told him that this would have happened tonight, or any day in the foreseeable future for that matter, he would have told them that they were far too optimistic. He hadn't been sure that they would _ever_ get to that point, and certainly not any time soon. And yet… he wasn't just imagining it. Her head was on his shoulder.

Looking down at her, it was clear that she was focusing very hard on breathing evenly, her breaths betraying the anxiety that she felt but was trying not to show. With her head resting against him, he decided that maybe he _could_ now reach out to her, as he'd been wanting to do for a while, without making her back away. It was a risk, of course, but at the same time, he suddenly felt like he knew her again. Maybe she wasn't the same person she'd been in the beginning, but then again, neither was he. And maybe that was okay.

She smiled despite herself. It had seemed like such a monumental thing to let herself lean against him, but now that she'd done it, she remembered why his touch had always made her feel so safe before. It wasn't anything she could describe, it was just… _Kurt_. Having long ago done her very best to forget this feeling of peace, of safety, for her own good, her system was suddenly flooded with it, and the effect was an overload of her senses. And yes, it scared the hell out of her, but at the same time it was possibly the best feeling ever. Looking down in her lap, she saw that her hands were still clenched together nervously. Though she attempted to send them a signal to tell them to relax, they continued to fidget. So instead, she focused on her breathing, which was still a little too fast – it matched her thundering heart.

He was watching her carefully, trying to read her body language to determine her state of mind. Leaning her head on his shoulder was a big deal for her, he knew, but even so, he wanted to be sure he didn't read too much into it and do something that would make her retreat. Now that her head was there, he didn't want to do anything that would startle her or that would make her sit back up.

The other main thing that he noticed was that her hands were fidgeting in her lap, gripping each other tightly. Her white knuckles were proof of how much effort she was expending on remaining outwardly calm just then, despite what was likely a storm of emotions going on inside her. It was strange how all of a sudden, he felt like he understood her again.

Without moving too much, so that he didn't jostle her head on his shoulder, he slowly reached his right hand towards her and placed it on top of her left. He didn't try to untangle her hands from each other, simply covered hers with his own. The effect was the same, however, and within a few seconds her clenched hands began to separate from each other, as if by magic.

And maybe it _was_ magic, because despite the tension she had felt just a few seconds before, despite the stress of allowing herself to let down her guard enough to lean on him, literally and maybe even a little bit figuratively as well, her hands simply let go of each other. She watched in surprise as her fingers responded to the warmth of his hand on top of hers. After all, they hadn't responded to signals from her own brain, and now they had surrendered voluntarily to his slight touch. Then, as she continued to watch in fascination, as if her hand was acting on its own and she had no control over it, she saw her left hand hesitantly turn over towards his. His fingers interlocked securely with hers, fitting perfectly together – as if they'd always meant to have been there. She felt a strange sensation in her chest – the best she could have explained it was that she swore her heart was tightening and yet exploding at the same time. Her fingers tightened just a little around his, and seconds later he squeezed back in response. When she inhaled her next breath, she felt it shaking.

 _Just keep breathing_ , she told herself, but heard it in Kurt's voice in her head instead of her own, which made her smile.

He didn't try to move her hand, simply left their joined hands laying against her left leg as they sat there beside each other. Not entirely convinced that he wasn't dreaming, he focused on the two points of contact between them – her head on his shoulder, and their joined hands. This was _real_. It was so far beyond what he'd expected, or even known that he'd wanted, that it was hard to process. Slowly, he shifted his hand just enough that he could reach his thumb into her palm and move it slowly up and down, from her wrist, all the way to the point where their fingers were interlocked and back, over and over.

His thumb was trailing slowly across the palm of her hand, leaving a trail of nerves that felt like they were on fire in their wake – in a good way. The sensation was soothing but at the same time made her heart thump wildly. Could he possibly know what effect he was having on her? She would have said no, except… _of course_ he knew. He _always_ seemed to know. That was part of the effortless connection that had been between them… _before_. Was it still there, somehow? It seemed like too much to hope for, and yet… wasn't the feeling she had as his thumb traced across her palm proof enough?

For the first time since she'd laid her head against him, her face relaxed into a small smile. Yes, in a way she was terrified… but in another way, it was as if her heart was bursting with happiness. She begged herself not to feel that way, to be so happy. After all, the happier she felt right now, the more it could shatter her in a matter of seconds from now. At any second, it could all end.

 _Is that any way to live_? she asked herself bravely. Still, trust was just not a thing that she could give him easily, no matter how much she wanted to.

 _Breathe,_ she reminded herself again. _Don't go any farther ahead than this moment. This_ _ **second**_ _. Breathe. Give him a chance. Hell, give_ _ **yourself**_ _a chance._

And so, gradually, her breathing slowed to a normal rate. Her heart was still beating loudly in her chest, and the more she quieted her thoughts, the louder she heard it. It made her smile gradually increase until she realized that she didn't remember the last time she'd smiled so hard.

They were close enough together that he noticed when her breathing seemed to slow to a more normal rate, and he couldn't help the smile that crept slowly across his face. He hadn't dared to let himself even hope for this much, but here they were.

Basically, they were both smiling like idiots.

"You know," he said softly, feeling as though even such a low voice was disturbing the quiet of the moment between them. "If we don't go back in there, Patterson's going to start combing the surveillance footage in the building to find us. And Zapata… well, she'd already had a _few_ drinks when I saw her a few minutes ago, so I wouldn't put it past her to start a rumor that we were in a closet making out somewhere, just for fun…" He bit his lip, grinning devilishly and waiting for Jane's reaction. He hoped that it would lighten the heavy, though not unpleasant, mood that had descended around them. It was the kind of banter that hadn't existed between them in a long, long time.

To his relief, she turned her head just enough so that she could glance up at him shyly, revealing the smile on her face but taking care not to remove her head from his shoulder. She liked it there. "Yeah," she replied just as quietly, "somehow I think I can see both of those things happening…" Then, after a pause, she asked, "But… do we have to? Because I'd rather be right here." Hearing her say that, he couldn't help but smile even wider, turning his head to lean his cheek against the top of her head. Not only was she not pulling away, she was reluctant to break contact.

"Me, too," he whispered, thinking that this whole thing was too good _not_ to be a dream. After a pause, during which he considered how exactly to say what he wanted to say without possibly overwhelming her and thereby destroying the moment they were having, he continued. "But we could always do this again… maybe not here in the stairwell, but… I don't know, somewhere more comfortable… you know, where there's chairs or a couch. Just… sit and… possibly, talk… Later…"

He wasn't even sure exactly how he'd wanted the words to come out, and he wasn't sure that that was the best way to say it. All he did know was, he wanted to convey to her how he felt, even though he felt like he was doing a terrible job putting it into words. He just knew that despite how much he would have loved to, they couldn't sit in the stairwell, missing their Christmas party, for much longer. It was a shame, really, because at that moment, he could have stayed just like that forever. Well, maybe not forever, but for a very long time. For as long as _she_ wanted to.

"I'd like that," she said quietly. However, within seconds she shifted, tensing up again, and he wondered where her thoughts had just gone, and what had just changed. Something had just ruined the peace of the last few minutes, and he had a feeling that it was what he'd said. Of course, he hated that he'd had to say anything, but it was the truth. They _would_ be missed if they didn't return shortly.

In reality, it was only partially what he'd said. It had occurred to her that while he would definitely be missed, she most certainly would not.

"You go back," she said, lifting her head slowly, reluctantly. " _You're_ the one whose absence they'll notice. No one expects me to be there." _Or wants me to be there_ , she added in her head. "I'm just going to—"

"No," he said, more firmly than even _he'd_ expected. She had attempted to let go of his hand, but he held it firmly. "I'm not going to let you tell yourself that you don't belong here, with us. Because you do, Jane." He knew that she had a lot of doubts about herself, most of which were completely unjustified, but he was putting his foot down.

He shifted so that he was no longer facing the same direction as her, but instead was facing _her_. He stared down at their joined hands, now holding on tighter so that she didn't try to pull hers away again, appearing deep in thought. He sat there like that for almost a minute before he started speaking, not looking up at her. She, on the other hand, had hazarded a glance at him and, finding that his eyes were _not_ on her, was now focused intently on him. Somehow it was easier that way.

Finally, he spoke. "I know that nothing about your life has been fair to you. And _we_ haven't been fair to you, either. You deserve _so much better_ than all of this."

There was misery in his voice, along with regret, exhaustion… so many things that she hated to watch him putting himself through. As soon as he started speaking, she felt a stab of pain in her heart. After all, this was because of her. He shouldn't have to bear this burden.

 _And he would say the same thing about you_ , the voice in her head reminded her, but somehow she was able to reject this side of the argument and feel sympathy only for him, not for herself.

He continued speaking before she could think of a way to respond, other than to focus on the fact that their hands were joined tightly as she stared at him. "And you have it in your head that you're a terrible person, and that you don't deserve another chance… but that's just not true. You aren't a terrible person. You're a more decent person than most of the people I've ever met. I wish that I had done things better. I wish…"

His eyes fell closed and his face was immediately pained, thinking back on all of the things that he wished they had done differently – that he wished that _he_ had done differently. Suddenly he was overwhelmed, and it was hard to breathe. "You _do_ deserve another chance." He sighed quietly, suddenly at a loss for what else to say, not knowing if she would believe any of it. After all, she was at least as stubborn as he was.

There was a clenching sensation in her chest, and she felt herself tensing up as she once again reminded herself to breathe in and out. She hadn't expected the outpouring of emotion from him, and it was hard to process. So much of what he'd said went against everything she'd assumed, everything she'd told herself… and now her mind felt torn between remaining separate from this life, from him, and letting herself trust him, and all the rest of them, again. She wanted to, and yet… she knew all too well how much it hurt when she lost it.

"I know that I can't just say a few words and it fixes everything magically," he said quietly, finally looking up and watching her stiffen as now it was her turn to refuse to meet his eyes. "I know that it's not that simple. But just… just come back into the party with me. _Please_. Just… just come and have a drink and maybe something to eat, and just sit with everyone and… just be there. It doesn't mean that everything that has happened is erased or that you have to forgive us or… that it's all just okay. I know that it's not. You have every right to want to run away from it all, or even to hate us." He glanced down again, and then back up, adding, "Me most of all. But…"

He could feel desperation seeping into his voice, despite his best efforts to stay calm, and to his frustration, his eyes felt suspiciously moist as well. In any other situation, this would have simply infuriated him enough to make him stomp away. But this was Jane, and even after everything they'd been through – no, maybe _because_ of everything they'd been through – he didn't mind letting her see whatever emotion spilled out of him. Maybe she _needed_ to see it. Maybe it would help her understand how serious he was about what he was saying, and that she wasn't alone in feeling broken, like she always seemed to assume.

"…I hope you won't," he finished, his voice dropping to almost nothing.

She looked back up at him then, their eyes finally meeting again. If she didn't know better, she'd say that Kurt looked like he was about to cry. She'd never seen him cry, she didn't think… though with everything he'd been through, it really wouldn't be much of a surprise if he did. _Maybe that's just how much he means what he's saying,_ she mused. _Could it really be affecting him this much_? She was so tired of overthinking everything, of analyzing it all to death, of pushing everyone away – of pushing _him_ away most of all – when all she wanted was to do the exact opposite. But…

All she could think was that she was just exhausted, and she didn't want to fight the urge to trust him anymore. The scars on her body were healing very, very slowly, though they were still very much present under her strategically chosen dress. She needed to be able to say the same for the scars on her mind, as well, she realized. But if she took the chance and ended up hurt all over again… it would be so much worse.

 _But what do you prefer?_ the voice in her head asked. _Staying safe and unhappy, or taking a chance at being happy?_

She looked down, away from him, remembering.

Suddenly she was standing outside a panic room, saying something similar. _Stay inside, stay_ _ **safe**_ **.** Jeffrey Kantor had fallen for this bait, had been lulled into a false sense of security, and when he'd come out of the panic room… well, he hadn't lived much longer.

 _It's not the same thing and you_ _ **know**_ _it,_ the voice said in exasperation.

She looked back up at him then, at the worry in his face, mixed with so many other emotions. There was no way to know for sure in advance. There would be no way to know if she never took the chance.

 _You can maybe be safe, or you can maybe be happy. Neither are guarantees. You probably won't be happy staying safe, not that way, because it means being alone. As for being happy… it may or may not work, but you may also end up being safe – and_ _ **not**_ _the kind of safe where you're alone. You'll never be sure. It's just another fork in the road where you have to choose._ Her head hurt from trying to analyze it all to death.

She'd made so many wrong choices already… how could she trust her own judgement?

He could see that her mind was wandering, and that she looked anxious. Just wanting to get her attention back once more, he said the only word he could utter at that moment. "Jane…."

When he said her name, she heard it as if from far away, but her mind rushed quickly back to the present, and there he was in front of her once more. She was staring into his eyes, and he looked at her worriedly.

"Okay," she replied quietly, attempting a smile but knowing that her face may or may not have cooperated. She was rewarded with what may have been the most endearing look of surprise and relief that she'd ever seen on his face.

He moved back until he was halfway between where he'd started out sitting, beside her, and where he'd been across from her, so that their knees were touching and they formed a right angle between them. He couldn't decide which he preferred, only knew that being near her felt… peaceful.

As soon as he stopped moving, she turned and leaned against his shoulder again, this time with her forehead instead of just the side of her head. He, in turn, also turned slightly towards her, and without overthinking it, as he would have if he'd hesitated for even a second, he dropped her left hand from his right and put both arms around, pulling her into a hug. It took her by surprise and she stiffened immediately, before she realized what he was doing. It wasn't _just_ that this was something that they hadn't done in a very long time, though it was also that.

No, even though she'd been back for months, she could probably count the number of times she'd had physical contact with anyone else – other than being strapped into a lie detector or something similar – on one hand, maybe two. They all involved Shepherd – whose hugs had been, despite the mother daughter relationship, rather terrifying, because Jane knew all that the woman was capable of – and Roman, who was only slightly less frightening, despite being her only blood relative.

The thing was, though, that neither of them had been hugging _Jane_ – they had been hugging Remi, the woman that they remembered and she _didn't_ , and she wasn't that person anymore. It was hard to explain, but it was very different. It was the epitome of the issue of someone liking you for who you are – literally. Jane was fairly sure that Kurt was the first one who had hugged _Jane_ since her time with the CIA, even though she'd been Jane through all of the rest. It seemed fitting, since he was the first one who'd hugged her when she'd first become Jane so long ago.

He was about to drop his arms from around her when he realized that she had relaxed, and that her hands had moved tentatively to his waist, though not all the way around his back. At that very moment she whispered, "You do too, you know."

"I do _what_?" he asked calmly, not moving from where he'd settled against her, his arms around her back.

"Deserve a second chance," she whispered. "I know that you don't think you do any more than I think I do… but I guess we're both wrong." Her words had caught him off guard, and all he could do was focus on inhaling slowly and deeply, and then exhaling the same way. For some reason, it meant more to hear her say this than it would have if it had come from anyone else.

 _Well you haven't heard it from me,_ came her words from long ago, echoing forward through time in his head. _It wasn't your fault_. He just stopped for a second, staring at her, a smile forming very slowly on his lips.

 _How can she be real?_ he wondered. _How can anyone who embodied everything that he didn't deserve in life be real?_

He didn't reply, but she felt his arms tighten around her back, pulling her closer, and that was enough. "I've missed you," she told him softly.

Relaxing again immediately and feeling like an enormous weight had been lifted from him, he felt a lurch in his chest at the simple truth of her words. He felt it so deeply because they echoed his thoughts as well, and he inhaled slowly, attempting to steady himself and to memorize this moment, this feeling. He was still in awe – he'd never thought he'd be here – or anywhere _near_ here – after so much heartache.

"I've missed you, too," he whispered – because how could he _not_ tell her something so important? It was the truth, something that he probably should have told her before. What he couldn't tell her, because there weren't words that would allow him to do so, just how _much_ he had missed her. Still, somehow he thought she might just know.

After another minute of sitting very still, just savoring the moment that they had stumbled on so unexpectedly, he felt her shift. "You're sure we can't just stay here?" she asked him without lifting her head, sounding serious. "Because this is the happiest I've been in a long time."

He chuckled, pulling her just a little closer before relaxing his grip on her. "Unfortunately, I'm sure we can't stay here," he replied. "Unless you want to have half of SIOC joining us here not too long from now…"

Slowly pulling her forehead off of his shoulder, she looked up at him hesitantly, not knowing exactly how she would feel when their eyes finally met. When they did, she felt… relief. Comfort. It was like she was looking at him for the first time in a very, very long time, and as soon as she identified the feeling, it made her smile harder than she had in ages.

It had been a long time since he'd seen her smile like that. A genuine smile, not forced or masking her pain, but one that showed real happiness. Just seeing her smile like that, he couldn't help but feel a happy glow spreading through him as well.

"Come on," he said, letting his arms slowly drop from her shoulders. He pushed himself up off of the cold concrete floor, and then reached both of his hands down toward her to help her up as well. For a split second she just looked up at him, slightly mesmerized by the look on his face… Once again, he was looking at her with the smile that had always been for her and her only. It had been a long time since she'd seen it, and she was almost afraid to look away, for fear that she wouldn't get another chance.

 _Don't be silly_ , she told herself, and reached up to let him help her off of the floor. As she angled her arms upwards towards him and he pulled her up, his jacket began to slip off of her shoulders. Just as she steadied herself on her feet, he let go of one of her hands and grabbed at the jacket that was about to fall to the floor. He caught it, and his hand remained there, on her back, as his other hand slowly came up to move the jacket back into place. Even through the fabric of the jacket, she could somehow feel the warmth of his hand on her back – or maybe she was just imagining it because she liked the idea so much. Either way, she looked up at him, continuing to look into his eyes, finding that she was unable to look away.

She was conscious of the fact that they were about to leave the stairwell and re-enter the area where there would be eyes on them, and she knew that wearing his jacket over her shoulders would not go unnoticed. Even so, she smelled his cologne on the jacket and inhaled deeply, momentarily forgetting to be anxious. The only explanation for what was happening was that she was dreaming. Whatever it was, she hoped that it wouldn't end anytime soon.

However, as she looked away from him, she was suddenly unsettled again… because in her mind, going back to the party was somehow equal to the end of this perfect moment, of this… _whatever it was_ between them. Going back to the party meant going back to reality. And the reality that had existed just before she had escaped into the stairwell wasn't one that she wanted to think about. To being back in that roomful of people who she'd hurt not only with her presence here at the FBI, but also with her actions.

The stress she was feeling was beginning to show on her face. "Jane," he said, and then waited for her to look at him. When she did, the hand that was still on her back moved up to her shoulder and squeezed slightly. He tried to think about what he could say to calm her down, but settled for just looking into her eyes. Even just by doing that, she seemed to settle back down, her breathing beginning to return to normal. Finally, he smiled at her. "Okay?" he asked.

She nodded slowly, her smile returning. Somehow, he always knew what to do – even now. His hand still on her shoulder, he stepped forward and leaned the rest of the way to open the door leading from the stairwell back into the hall, and the lights from there, along with the noise of the party, flooded their ears as soon as he did. He squeezed her shoulder again gently through his jacket, and she turned and moved forward through the door. Glancing down as she re-entered the hall, she felt more than a little self-conscious about coming out of the stairwell with Kurt, wearing his jacket. Once she was through the doorway, she looked back up to find the immediate area deserted, and breathed a sigh of relief. Kurt stepped through after her, his hand slowly falling from her shoulder. Immediately she felt the loss of the contact, as indirect as it had been through his jacket. Stopping for a second as he stepped up beside her, he glanced in the direction of the party, and then back at her, smiling once again – that smile that filled her with such warmth.

"You're coming with me, right?" he asked, wondering if she'd suddenly changed her mind. As he watched, she glanced ahead of them down the hall toward the noise, and then back at him, repeating the motion several times before her eyes settled on him and she nodded. "Yeah," she replied, but looking far less than sure.

He had the urge to take her hand again, but he wasn't sure whether walking into the party holding his hand would have made her even more self-conscious, and therefore more anxious instead of less. "I forgot to tell you," he said softly, trying a different technique instead, "you look beautiful tonight." She smiled, blushing immediately and looking down at the floor.

"Thanks," she replied, but then almost immediately her face changed, and she looked pained. "If it was just the tattoos, I wouldn't have bothered with all this…" she gestured to the gauzy fabric that made up the sleeves and wrapped around the form fitting black dress. "But my arms and my back, well…" Shaking her head, she stared hard at the floor, biting her lip. "I remember when I thought the _tattoos_ were bad," she said in almost a whisper. "What I wouldn't give to only have the tattoos to worry about…"

When she looked up, she saw that his face was now just as pained as hers, and she realized the effect that her words had had on him. She knew that he blamed himself for what had happened to her. She had blamed him as well, for a while, but now… fault didn't change anything, and she was getting better at letting go of things like blame. Besides, the things that _she_ had done were what had led her there, as far as she was concerned, and not his actions. Either way, she had to begin to let go if she wanted to move forward – which she did. It was hard to remember that maybe he was having more trouble doing that than she was, but at that moment, that was exactly what it looked like.

"I didn't mean…" she started, then exhaled loudly, shaking her head. She really and truly sucked at this – "this" being interaction with people, as far as she was concerned. "I'm sorry," she said instead, now unable to look at him.

"Let's not do that, okay?" he said softly. "We've been down this road. We know where it goes." Nodding, she looked back up at him and smiled sadly.

 _I really can't get anything right_ , she thought miserably. _Not even when he's being nothing but_ _ **nice**_ _to me._

"Let me try this again," he said in the same warm tone in which he had told her that she was beautiful, then cleared his throat. That was enough to get her attention, and she looked up at him, curiosity winning over awkwardness. "You look beautiful tonight." After a pause, during which she said nothing, simply looked at the floor awkwardly, he added, "Now you smile, take the compliment and know that I meant it, because you _do_ look beautiful, you say 'thank you,' and we go back to the party. Okay?"

Despite the anxiety that had surged in her again, his words were soothing, and she couldn't help but smile. _He makes it sound so easy_ , she thought. "Okay," she whispered, then added, "Thank you." Then, looking at him steadily for a few seconds, she added, "Now, could I please give you your jacket back?"

He knew very well that she would have felt awkward walking in with his jacket on her shoulders unless he'd rescued her from freezing temperatures or something equally dramatic, so he smiled and nodded slightly, taking pity on her. Without waiting for her to react, he slipped it off of her shoulders, brushing his fingers against the gauzy material that covered her arms and back. The material was thin, he noticed, not meant to trap warmth, as had already been demonstrated in the stairwell. Its only purpose was to hide the parts of her that she wanted to remain hidden.

After he'd slipped his jacket back on, he offered her the crook of his arm, and after only a second's hesitation she slipped her hand in it, feeling like this was an acceptable compromise between wearing his jacket and simply walking side by side.

Feeling the warmth of her hand against his arm, he had no qualms about walking back into the party this way. On the contrary, it felt like the right thing to do. It also helped because he could gently propel her forward, back towards the party that they'd now missed so much of – while she wasn't resisting, exactly, she definitely needed his momentum to keep her going. He knew that he should feel at least a little bit guilty about missing so much of the event, but even as hard as he knew that Patterson had worked to put all this together, he couldn't find it in him to regret it. On the contrary, as far as he was concerned, he had been _exactly_ where he was supposed to be.

Patterson was the first one to see the Weller and Jane walk back into the party. She had been looking for both of them separately, and had at some point put together that since both of them were missing, maybe they were somewhere together – as unlikely as that sounded. At least she could _hope,_ for their sake, that they were somewhere together. But where?

So far she'd managed to keep her growing curiosity, mixed with a little anxiety, in check, and convinced herself _not_ to track them using the office surveillance cameras. No, she wouldn't do that… for at least another forty-five minutes.

When she'd imagined Jane and Weller together, she'd imagined them together in the "in the same place" sense of the word. Of course, it was impossible to tell what was going on with the two of them, just like it had _always_ been impossible to tell with them. But at that moment, as she watched them walk back in together, something seemed different – and not just because Jane was holding his arm – though _that_ was a very interesting development as well. When Patterson thought about that further, walking in like that with Weller seemed like something that the "old" Jane would have done. The "new" Jane, the one who didn't seem to want much to do with any of them, seemed much less likely to even get close enough to anyone else for that to be possible – at least not voluntarily. So what did it mean? Had something changed between them?

With that, she headed across the room to where Zapata and Reade were sitting, to see if they'd also noticed Jane and Weller's reappearance. She had the feeling that things were about to get even more interesting.


	5. Together

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :) I also do not own any aspect of the song quoted in this chapter (which I will mention at the end so I don't give it away here), which I learned when I looked it up was written by Bob Dylan. WHO KNEW? :)**_

Patterson hurried over to where Zapata and Reade sat conspiring together at one of the elegantly decorated tables off to one side of the room. "Hey, guys," Patterson said excitedly, pulling up a chair behind the pair and leaning forward between them, "did you see who just-"

" _Patterson_!" Zapata practically hissed in surprise, hooking her elbow around the blonde's neck and pulling her towards her so that she could speak to her in what she obviously _thought_ was a lower voice. Patterson glanced at Reade, slightly panicked, but he just rolled his eyes in Zapata's direction, then glanced at empty glasses on the table. Patterson nodded in understanding. _Zapata has had at least a few drinks already_ , was the message that Reade had obviously been sending.

Turning back toward Zapata, Patterson armed herself with a sufficiently serious face to deal with Zapata in her current, slightly more excitable than usual, state.

Zapata hadn't even noticed the exchange between Patterson and Reade, and was once again talking in what she thought was a quiet voice. "Jane and Weller just walked around the corner. _Together_ ," Zapata emphasized carefully. "Look at them, I mean, they're not making out or anything, but look how close together they are. And her hand is on his arm." Suddenly her tone changed from excited to sentimental, and very un-Zapata-like as she sighed, "It's just… _beautiful_." Then the brunette turned to Patterson suddenly, looked her straight in the eye, and demanded, "What can we do?"

Patterson almost choked on the drink she was very carefully sipping, not knowing when Zapata was going to grab onto her next, at the question. "What can we do?" Patterson asked in confusion. "About… what?" Glancing at Reade, she saw him shrug his shoulders as if to say, 'Hey, don't ask me.'

Reade leaned closer to the women, asking, "What'd you have in mind, Zapata?" Tasha smiled a slightly evil looking grin, then a second later, looked serious.

"We need to get them together." Zapata looked from one confused face to the other and rolled her eyes at the looks that both of them were giving her. "You know, _to-geth-er_ ," she repeated slowly and deliberately."What? We decided that we trust Jane, right?" Zapata asked them when they both looked skeptical.

Reade wondered if Zapata had had more to drink than he'd initially thought. If _she_ was the one talking about trusting Jane…

Patterson nodded slowly as her brain began to wrap around Zapata's idea. It seemed very strange coming from the woman who'd been so critical of Jane since her return, and yet… Patterson herself could see it. Even though she could see how skittish Jane still was, she'd caught Weller looking at her more than a few times lately. Every once in a while there was the spark of what they'd all seen so plainly in his eyes when he looked at her back at the beginning. Before, Patterson had just found it sad. Now, she wondered if maybe Zapata was actually on to something…

Reade remained uncertain. Through numerous discussions that the three of them had had, and even more conversations between himself and Zapata, his partnerhad always been the biggest hold out when it came to Jane and whether or not she could be trusted. It was true that they were feeling better and better about giving her a second chance, knowing what they now knew, and after she had helped them fight Sandstorm. It was also true that they had rising levels of guilt over what had happened to her while she'd been in CIA custody that were directly proportionate to their increasing acceptance of her – the more they accepted her as one of them again, the guiltier they felt about what had happened to her.

Still, he wondered if this wasn't suddenly springing ten steps ahead. While the raid that had allowed them to disable so much of Sandstorm had been thanks largely to Jane's loyalty to the FBI, still, he was cautious by nature, and he just didn't know about this. Besides, matchmaking definitely wasn't his thing. With that thought, he surrendered the topic to the two women beside him.

With Reade remaining silent and Patterson nodding at her slowly, Zapata seemed to take that as more than enough encouragement to go ahead and outline what _she_ thought they should do. Based on the look on the faces of both their boss and Jane, Zapata reasoned, things were now somehow good between them. A lot better than they had been even earlier that same day.

This statement made Patterson turn to watch Jane and Weller as they went to the bar at the far side of the room. They _did_ look comfortable with each other, something that hadn't happened in a long time. She couldn't help but be reminded of the way the two had interacted back when they'd thought that she was Taylor. Before Sandstorm. Before everything had gone to Hell. Then Patterson's mind jumped ahead to the present, and she wondered what exactly had happened in that time that she hadn't been able to find the two of them. What had changed things so dramatically between them?

"They're still standing so far apart!" Zapata said in an embarrassingly loud voice, as Reade and Patterson looked around to see if anyone had turned to look at her. As far as they could tell, no one had, but their luck wouldn't necessarily hold out.

"Sssshhh, Z, turn down the volume," Reade said quickly, leaning down beside her ear. She turned to scowl at him in annoyance, their faces suddenly very close together – much closer than he wanted to be to an angry Zapata. He immediately moved back a few inches for his own safety. He knew Tasha well enough to know that even when she was clear headed, she was not someone he wanted to argue with if he didn't have to. After a few drinks, standing right in her face might be exactly where he _didn't_ want to be.

"Did you have something in mind, Tasha?" Patterson asked in an attempt to diffuse the conflict between the other two. Zapata may have been tipsy, but Patterson suddenly realized that this might be exactly what Weller and Jane needed – a little nudge in the right direction. That was probably what they had needed before, too… Though of course, that was now a moot point. But right now, to her knowledge, the two didn't have any secrets hanging over them, nothing that would hold them apart other than their baggage from the past. Getting past that wouldn't be easy, of course, but from the look on their faces, she was willing to guess that they were already moving in that direction. And besides, if no one gave them a nudge, the two just might never figure it out for themselves.

Zapata turned and looked from Reade to Patterson, her expression deadly serious. "Yes," she said solemnly, "It's simple. We need to get them to dance."

"Oh, well, yeah, that's easy," Patterson said brightly. "I'm controlling the music from my computer." Raising her eyebrows devilishly, she grinned, knowing that this was perhaps the easiest "problem" she'd ever solved. She'd really thought that Zapata had something more complicated in mind, but this was as good as done.

Zapata gave her a delighted grin. "Perfect! We need something _slow,_ " she replied slowly and emphatically.

Patterson just chuckled. "I got this," she declared, standing up and walking across the room to the corner where her computer was hooked up to a pair of large speakers.

"Hey, Zapata, you sure you about this?" Reade asked her as Patterson clicked away at her keyboard across the room. "You haven't exactly been Jane's biggest fan lately."

Zapata rolled her eyes at him, now turning to look at him squarely in the eye and speaking slowly and evenly, in a tone – though not the language – that she might have used if she was trying to explain the same thing to a child. "I know, I've kind of been a bitch to her," Zapata began, and Reade's eyes widened slightly. It was true, of course, but he was more than a little surprised to hear Zapata admitting it so freely. She was his best friend, so he knew that admitting to her mistakes wasn't necessarily one of her strengths.

Seeing his expression, she muttered, "Shut up! It's not like any of us had much of a reason to trust her when she came back…" Reade held up his hands in surrender in front of him, saying nothing, and Zapata continued. "I mean, I still think the shit she did was messed up… But, she doesn't need to be punished for the rest of her _life_. And, I mean, I guess she _thought_ she was doing the right thing… protecting Kurt, protecting _us…_ and then when the CIA tortured her and she never told them _anything_? Even after everything that had happened?" She shook her head resolutely. "No, she's been through _enough_ , even I can admit that. Besides, just… _look at them_ …"

She motioned to where Jane and Weller were standing, still near the bar but now facing their general direction, holding drinks. Reade had to admit that Zapata, tipsy or not, had a point. The two weren't even standing _that_ close together, and they both looked ridiculously happy, as if they were unaware of anything or anyone around them. He couldn't remember seeing Weller that happy in… well, not since all the problems with Jane had started. No, maybe not in as long as he'd known the guy.

As for Jane… he'd been slowly coming around to sympathizing with her. No matter how many bad decisions she'd made, he agreed with Zapata – she didn't deserve to be punished for them indefinitely. He'd been the one trying to ease Zapata off of the anti-Jane train for a while now. Besides, with the missing memories of his own childhood that he was only slowly learning about… things that _he_ didn't want to remember, it was all disturbingly like what had happened to her. Basically, he'd decided that he owed Jane a little extra understanding, even if it was too little, too late.

When he looked at Jane now, he saw something that surprised him. He remembered it from the early days, back when he'd been dead set against her being a part of their team… He'd never realized it then, but he saw it clearly now – the way she seemed to light up around Weller, how she just seemed… _brighter,_ for lack of a better word… when she was with him. Except that it hadn't been that way since he'd arrested her – understandably. And now, suddenly it was there again. The light.

And Weller, the serious guy that he had always been – just as he'd told Jane back then, Weller was different around her, too. He'd been wrong though, when he'd thought that Jane was weakening him. No, the change in their boss wasn't for the worse around Jane – though he did have a _serious_ inability to think objectively when it came to her, and that was probably never going to change. The difference was hard to explain. The best thing he could come up with was that Jane gave Weller something to fight for besides just a memory. She anchored him in the present.

And now it was all happening again, before his eyes. Just from looking at their faces he knew, because he'd had that feeling with Sarah… He wasn't sure that pushing them together was the right thing to do, but then again… those two had always proven to be a little hopeless in that department. Maybe that was the only way it would actually happen.

"I've got it all set up," Patterson declared only a minute later, rejoining the pair and flopping down in a chair on the other side of Reade.

"What song did you pick?" Zapata demanded, hungry for the details.

But Patterson just smiled and shook her head. "You'll see in another minute," she told her friend.

Jane and Kurt were by the bar, standing beside each other and making small talk as they sipped their drinks. Really, Jane had enjoyed sitting in the stairwell with Kurt more than she was enjoying the party, but it had been important to Kurt that she stick around, and she was glad that she had. She was even gladder that he'd caught her at just the right moment earlier, or she would have missed this chance to spend the evening with him.

Kurt wondered if Jane could feel the eyes on them. He'd noticed them almost immediately, and it didn't take him long to locate the source. After scanning the room for a few minutes, he saw Patterson, Reade and Zapata sitting together at one of the tables, looking in their direction. It was pretty much just as he'd expected would happen at some point, but he didn't care. If any of them were going to question the wisdom of whatever it was between himself and Jane, which he had trouble imagining that any of them would actually _want_ to do, knowing his reaction to comments on this topic, he doubted that they would choose to do it here, at least. In a little while, they'd weave their way through the sea of other agents and talk with the rest of their team. Just… not yet.

The song that had been playing in the background – some kind of poppy rendition of a Christmas song – ended, and Patterson felt herself hold her breathe as an extended piano introduction of the song she'd just chosen began. She watched for their reactions, assuming that as usual, Jane wouldn't recognize the song, but wondering if Weller might. Whether he did or not, she willed him to do as she was silently instructing him and ask her to dance. She'd turned up the volume setting for good measure, to be sure that they'd notice, and it was only a few seconds after the song started before she saw Weller's eyes flick knowingly in their direction for a split second, before he leaned over to Jane and said something to her that seemed to make her blush.

 _Here we go,_ Patterson thought.

Across the room, Kurt was pretty sure the other three were up to something, he just wasn't sure what. They were watching them with grins on their faces, and he didn't know what to make of it. When the song that had been on in the background finished, he heard the soft piano melody – what seemed to be a longer than usual introduction of a song he knew – several different versions of it had come and gone over the years, as a matter of fact. He'd heard it most recently at a friend's wedding the year before, and only remembered because he'd had to excuse himself from the room to get away from the overly aggressive bridesmaid that had seemed set on his asking her to dance to that very song.

Yes, he had a feeling that this was his team's doing… not that he was against it. He smiled in spite of himself. Shooting them the quickest of glances, he set down his drink on the small table nearby. Then leaning closer to Jane, he said, "Come on, let's dance." She looked at him in surprise as the piano melody filled the air. She didn't know the song, and she felt awkward about the thought of dancing with him… and yet, at the same time she couldn't remember wanting anything more in a long, long time.

"I don't think I can…" When she heard herself, the words seemed to stick in her throat. They were the same ones she'd said at the Rich Dotcom party they'd attended to recover the WitSec list, just before she'd proven that she _could_.

 _Why in the world did I say that?_ she asked herself.

He looked at her with a smirk, turning his head slightly sideways as he did when something amused him. "No, you can only use that excuse once," he told her, unphased by her hesitation, before leaning closer to her and adding in a whisper, "And besides, we know it isn't true." She watched as he beamed at her, and she couldn't help but smile, feeling something very familiar… and yet startling at the same time – the same sensation she had back on that day so long ago when they had danced for the first time. Butterflies in her stomach. The same strange flip that her heart had done when he'd muttered, "I'm too choosy," while looking into her eyes. For a second, she felt the same happy sensation of falling…

And then panic set in.

It was obvious as he looked into her eyes… the exact moment when her emotions shifted from blissfully happy to terrified. Without giving himself time to overanalyze, he reached down and took one of her hands, grasping it in both of his and, pushing his jacket aside, bringing it smoothly up to rest against his shirt, just over his heart. Just like that time long ago. "Jane," he said softly, the same way he always did when he was trying to bring her back to reality. "Keep breathing." He hoped that it would work the same way it had the first time.

She was so completely overwhelmed, she didn't stop to consider that they were now in the midst of the party, not thinking about the fact that there were most definitely eyes, as well as _security cameras_ , on their every moves. No, the rest of the world had simply fallen away around them. The people, the lights, the noise… Had she been able to focus on such details, it may or may not have changed anything, but the fact was, she had just felt herself begin to tumble back into the dark abyss that so often threatened to swallow her… That is, until he'd managed to pull her back from the brink.

Now she was standing there, struggling to control her breathing, struggling _not_ to think about the fact that she felt very much what she'd felt that first time they'd danced… Whether the first time had been real or just a part of the act she did not know. She only knew that _this time_ it was no act. Despite all of her best efforts to calm her racing heartbeat, she was terrified, because she suddenly realized what was happening. She now understood that once again, she was falling in love with him. The first time it had happened she hadn't even known it. This time, she didn't have the luxury of ignorance.

Of course, it wasn't love that terrified her. Love itself seemed blissful, because she had already experienced the opposite extreme of human behavior. Nor was it Kurt that she was afraid of… not exactly. Despite their history, she only had to look in his eyes to understand how he felt at that moment. The problem, of course, with being that happy, with believing in the goodness of another human being that much, was the searing pain that was inevitable when it was ripped away. The fear that she felt at the thought of that happening again took her breath away. Logically, she knew that it didn't always happen like that, but logic was not in charge in her brain at that moment.

After all, she only had one past experience to draw from, so for her, love ended in agony 100% of the time.

 _It will always be 100% of the time if you never give anyone a chance again,_ that logical voice pointed out.

They stood there frozen, looking at each other, as he held her hand against his chest, willing her to breathe, to calm down, to… He felt himself falter, wondering what he could do. After all, how could he blame her for being afraid? After everything that had happened, everything that _he_ had done to her… His eyes dropped from hers and he looked down sadly, guilt once again washing over him. Maybe the baggage between them was simply too much. Maybe they _couldn't_ fix it.

This change in him somehow stirred something inside her to attention. _It feels like that time,_ the voice in her head said, _and in some ways it is the same… but mostly, it isn't. You_ _ **know**_ _that it's different. What happened before… it's_ _ **not**_ _going to happen again. Look at him. Really look. If this isn't a man who regrets his choices, who would do anything to go back and do things differently, then I don't know what is. Besides, don't you feel the exact same way? Shouldn't you be able to understand better than anyone in the world at least that much of what he's feeling?_

She realized that for once, she agreed with her inner voice. Where they were just then, in that moment… it was terrifying how similar it was to where they had been before. But this was _not_ before, and they had both learned many lessons since then. There was no guarantee, of course, but there never would be in life. This would require taking a risk. A frightening one. But the choices were for her to take the risk and maybe get what she knew deep down that she wanted, or not to take the risk and continue to live the way she had been. Even _she_ knew that that was no kind of life, keeping herself separate from everyone. It was _safer_ , perhaps, but it was also… _empty_.

It didn't have to be that way.

Leaning over to set down the drink that she was still holding, then taking her now free hand and placing it over his hand, which held hers against his chest, she squeezed slightly. "Okay," she whispered, to his surprise. He looked up at her, having momentarily accepted the idea that there was no way that she would dance with him after all, and that he couldn't blame her for it. He smiled at her, surprised, and the corners of her mouth bent upwards slightly, too. Really, she still looked frightened… but she'd said, "Okay," and there was a determined look in her eyes that hadn't been there a moment ago.

He slowly removed their hands from his chest and took one of her hands in his. They walked slowly to the center of the open area and paused, looking at each other, suddenly unsure how to proceed. The dancing at Rich Dotcom's black tie party had been very formal. This was very much the opposite. A few other couples had also come out into the makeshift dancefloor already, and were swaying to the music. He reached forward to put his hands on her waist, and she slowly lifted her hands to his shoulders, her forearms leaning against his chest, holding him at a slightly distance. Still, it was the closest they'd stood to each other in a long time.

Almost as if the song had been timed perfectly, that was when the lyrics began.

" _When the rain is blowing in your face  
And the whole world is on your case_

 _I could offer a warm embrace  
To make you feel my love…"  
_

Her eyes darted to his as she took in the first few lines to the song, somewhere between panic and surprise. He watched her, calmly, since he knew the song, and therefore knew what was coming. It was quite possibly the perfect song for them to dance to just then, and he had a strong suspicion that at least one of this team members had something to do with it.

" _When evening shadows and the stars appear  
And there is no one there to dry your tears  
I could hold you for a million years  
To make you feel my love…"_

As he watched her reaction to the lyrics, he couldn't help but pull her just a little closer, suddenly feeling like each and every line of the song was putting into words what he would have said to her if he had been able to articulate his feelings. He continued to look into her eyes, slowly moving along with the music. His arms now wound all the way around her back and he had slowly pulled her close enough that her arms had moved up over his shoulders, around the back of his neck.

The look on her face was uncertain, but it was not the terrified look that he'd seen a few minutes before. It was more as if she was searching for something in his face.

" _I know you haven't made your mind up yet  
But I would never do you wrong  
I've known it from the moment that we met  
No doubt in my mind where you belong…"_

The words to this song held her attention completely. For some reason, she got the feeling that, even though the song had obviously not been written just for her, somehow the message _was_ intended just for her. She couldn't read Kurt's thoughts, _obviously_ , but she would have sworn, based on the look in his eyes alone, that if he could actually say what was in his head, it would sound something a lot like the this song.

 _Don't be ridiculous,_ she told herself. And yet, looking in his eyes at that moment, it was as if he was willing her to believe exactly that. She felt him slowly drawing her closer and closer, but instead of feeling panic or awkwardness, the closer she got to him, the calmer she felt. It just felt… right.

" _I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue  
I'd go crawling down the avenue…"  
_

He felt her flinch just a little at the allusion to being black and blue, as it hit a little too close to home. _She_ was the one who was black and blue, literally and figuratively. Not that he didn't also feel battered by the storm they'd been through, which he had, but he knew that what he'd been through was nothing compared to her.

Just thinking about everything she had endured was enough to make him gently pull her a little tighter to him, and he was relieved to notice that she didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, after she'd flinched a second ago, she'd leaned into him.

" _Oh, there's nothing that I wouldn't do  
To make you feel my love…"_

Giving up eye contact with her in favor of closeness, he pulled her to him past the point where he could look into her eyes, letting his stubbly cheek fall against the side of her face and remain there. His eyes closed, and he focused on breathing evenly. This moment didn't feel real.

" _The storms are raging on the rolling sea  
And on the highway of regret…"  
_

 _Regret._ There was a word that they both understood acutely, that could slice through everything they had managed to rebuild and stab them directly in the heart. To say that they both had regrets was an understatement of the highest magnitude. To be reminded of this in the midst of this moment that was already making her so emotional… She had to remind herself quickly that she did not have to go back, not to any of it. None of those things that she'd done or not done, been or not been, had the ability to bring her back there if she didn't let them. If only it was that simple.

If she hadn't been reminding herself to breathe, she might have forgotten, and at that moment, she choked on the breath she was exhaling, feeling momentarily unable to breathe. Her arms were now around his neck tightly, and her face fell forward as her cheek leaned hard against him just below his shoulder. She was overwhelmed, and for a second she struggled to catch her breath. Within a split second, one of his hands had left her lower back and was on the back of her head, his fingers moving slowly through her hair. His face pressed against her forehead, and she both felt and heard a soothing "Sssshhh," escape him.

" _The winds of change are blowing wild and free  
You ain't seen nothing like me yet…"_

It was only a few seconds before she could breathe again, but even when she could, she stayed exactly where she was, her head leaned against him. Like her, he held the position that he had moved into so quickly, moving his hand that was in her hair down slightly, closer to her neck, but kept his fingers in her hair. He wasn't giving up this chance to hold onto her this way, not knowing when – or if – there would be another one.

As her breathing had normalized again, she relaxed and enjoyed where she was, now so much closer to him. She couldn't see his face, of course, but she somehow knew that he was smiling, and it made her smile as well, even as everything inside her felt as though it would burst with opposing forces of fear and elation simultaneously.

She had that feeling again. The one where she was soaring, not falling. Really, her emotions were bombarding her too quickly for her to sort out half of them.

" _I could make you happy, make your dreams come true  
Nothing that I wouldn't do  
Go to the ends of the earth for you  
To make you feel my love."_

As the song came to an end, she held her breath, willing it to continue if she only wished hard enough. More than anything, she longed for some excuse to stay in that spot and never move. It wasn't an option, of course, but damn, it was a nice thought.

Lifting her head hesitantly off of him and inhaling slowly, she drank in the moment. They both leaned back just far enough that their eyes met for a second, and an unspoken understanding passed between them, after which he leaned his cheek back against the side of her face. However it had all happened, it was perfect.

 _A/N: Once again, I do not claim any credit for the beautiful song in this chapter, "To Make You Feel My Love." Like I said above, I had no idea that that song was written by Bob Dylan! I was listening to the Adele version when the idea for the dance scene in this chapter popped into my head, and the rest of the story has since grown from there. You may also be interested to know that a few hours after I posted chapter 4, I had a whole new idea that I first thought would be a separate story, then realized that it would fit nicely after what I had planned to be the end of this one. So good news, this story is not ending anytime soon. :) After all, for the team it's only December 23_ _rd_ _, and the story_ _ **is**_ _called "December." :) Thanks for reading!_


	6. Look Up

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

"Jane," he whispered beside her ear, "Are you okay?" He couldn't see her face just then, he only knew that she was now clinging onto him tightly. Not that he didn't like it, but since he _couldn't_ see her face, he wanted to be sure. He himself felt elation at that moment, and the only thing he didn't like about that moment was that it seemed to be ending.

She nodded against him slowly, then turned her head just enough so that he could hear her reply, "How can we get that song to play again?" She felt him chuckle, since they were still pressed against each other from the dance, which was now slightly awkward since the music seemed to have turned back to Christmas music, albeit a relatively slow song.

"And here, you didn't think you wanted to dance," he whispered teasingly into her ear in a low voice. She laughed softly at his teasing, still not moving back from him even a little bit. He smiled at the happy glow that had wrapped the two of them in the moment, still holding onto her just as tightly as she was holding onto him, though conscious that he was going to have to let go of her very soon. Within seconds, even. He'd already located Patterson, Reade and Zapata watching them from across the room, grins on their faces, and, in Patterson's case, tears of happiness shining in her eyes. If he wasn't mistaken, Zapata appeared to be cheering while the others attempted to quiet her down. Kurt wondered how much she'd had to drink, and he chuckled slightly once again.

"I don't think that song was a coincidence," he said into her ear, and she turned her head enough to look in the direction that he was facing. Seeing the others across the room – at which time Zapata waved enthusiastically – Jane chuckled as well, while simultaneously blushing with embarrassment, looking back at Kurt and holding her face _just_ far enough away to be able to look into his eyes, but no farther. For those seconds, she was speechless.

"There's no one else dancing anymore," he told her softly. When she glanced around quickly, she saw that he was right, and couldn't help but sigh, her eyes going back to his.

"So, we have to… stop?" She asked softly, hoping that he would tell her that she was wrong.

Even though he knew that neither of them liked the answer, he nodded. "Yeah," he replied, but still didn't move away from her.

She let the side of her face fall against his again, no longer swaying to any music, simply unable to make herself move away from him. And then suddenly, they had company in the form of Patterson on one side of them, and Zapata and Reade on the other.

"You guys!" Patterson was squealing before Jane even knew what was happening, and then she quickly pulled the two of them into a group hug, squeezing Jane and Kurt just a little bit closer together, which neither of them was about to complain about. When she let go and stepped back, her face was flushed with excitement and happiness. Kurt couldn't help but think that it was by far the happiest he'd seen Patterson in quite a while – since before Borden had been discovered as a Sandstorm mole, for sure. Thankfully, Patterson had enough sense even in her excitement to know that Jane and Kurt really had no idea what was going on beyond the fact that they were standing pressed against each other, so she didn't try to pry details out of them.

Their attention then turned to the other side, where Zapata and Reade stood. "About damn time," Zapata mumbled, standing with her arms crossed but with a sly smile on her face. She was grinning at them more enthusiastically than she would have without the alcohol in her system.

Reade leaned down over Zapata's shoulder, from where he stood slightly behind her, and said, "Be nice, Zapata."

Looking over her shoulder at him in mock annoyance, she replied quickly, "I _am_ being nice. These two have taken way too damn long to get to this point. I just wanted to make sure they knew it." Kurt chuckled as Reade looked back at him over Zapata's shoulder, shrugging and giving a look that said, slightly apologetically, _I can't explain her behavior_ , but at the same time, that he didn't disagree with her. After all, while Zapata may have been the only one saying it, they were all pretty much _thinking_ it.

"Come on, ladies, let's go get a drink," Reade said to Zapata and Patterson. "Water for you, missy," he said to Zapata, and then took a swift step to the side, correctly anticipating the swing that she was about to take at him. Because of this, she failed to make contact with him and her arm simply swung in the air. She didn't appreciate this, and she let him know it as they walked away.

Just as they seemed to be gone, Zapata swung back around, her eyes shining excitedly. "Oh, hey Weller! Jane!" There was absolute delight in her face as she exclaimed, "Look up!"

Kurt looked up and stared at the small plant that was suspended from the ceiling in awe, wondering if it could possibly be a coincidence, or if they had somehow organized _that_ as well, and had somehow made sure that he and Jane ended up underneath it. Jane was looking up, confused, and then looked back down to him. "Why is there a plant hanging from the ceiling?" she asked.

"It's… it's called mistletoe," Kurt said, slowly looking back down in her direction. "I don't know where the tradition started, but people put it up around the holidays and if you're caught standing under it, you…" He paused, and if she didn't know better, she would have said that he was blushing.

"You have to kiss!" Zapata yelled in delight from across the room, the grin on her face a mile wide. Reade's eyes grew wide at her outburst and he grabbed her by the shoulders, attempting to spin her around and drag her back with him.

"Damn, Zapata, how much did you _drink,_ anyway?" he growled at her. And yet, the three friends had stopped moving and were now watching Jane and Kurt in anticipation. This was even better than they'd hoped for.

Jane had blushed bright red, and was staring at Kurt in disbelief. "Really?" she asked, as he looked down at her slowly, nodding.

"I swear I'm not making it up," he told her sincerely.

"Just kiss already!" Zapata yelled again impatiently, Patterson and Reade both looking mortified to be standing beside her.

Jane was trying to take all this in in the few seconds since Kurt – with a little help from Zapata – had explained the tradition. _You stand under a plant and that means you had to kiss? That was…_ _ **weird**_ _,_ she thought. And yet…

 _Don't pretend you haven't dreamed about kissing him again,_ the voice in her head reminded her. _And not just once. You've had that dream_ _ **many**_ _times. It's not quite the same thing, but don't pretend you wouldn't like it… you liked kissing him the other times, after all…_ And just like that, after looking between Zapata, who had clearly been drinking a little more than usual, and Kurt, suddenly she smiled. Because… why _not_ kiss him? It seemed like as good an excuse as any other.

Kurt chuckled nervously, shaking his head, about to tell her that they didn't have to… but something in Jane's face had changed in the past few seconds, between when she'd looked over at Zapata, then back at him… she was looking him square in the face, no longer seeming shy, and with the heels that she was wearing, she was almost exactly his height. She didn't lean all the way forward, but she was definitely standing much closer to him than she had been a few seconds before. Now he was more than a little confused.

"So, what's wrong, Weller, you shy?" she whispered, leaning slowly forward with a grin on her face. He smiled the same smile that Jane had missed so much in all the time that had passed since the last time they had stood this close, when they had kissed in the locker room that day.

"Well, when you put it that way…" he whispered.

And then, leaning forward, he met her halfway. After that, there was no more talking, and just for a few seconds, their lips met. The sensation was familiar, and Jane wondered how she could have ever given it up for anything in the world.

 _Oh right,_ she thought somewhere in the back of her head, _I didn't. It was just one more thing that was taken from me… because I would_ _ **never**_ _give this up._

All too soon it was over. After all, this _was_ the middle of the office and there _were_ many eyes – and security cameras – on them. They leaned back, away from each other just enough that their eyes could meet. She could feel herself blushing, and thought that just maybe he was blushing as well under the face full of scruff.

"If we keep standing here, is Zapata going to tell us we have to kiss again?" Jane asked in a whisper.

Kurt chuckled, then leaned closer to her to whisper, "Are you asking because you're hoping the answer is yes, or no?" She looked away for a second, and he swore she looked just a little bit embarrassed. "We can talk about _that_ later, okay? Maybe not in the middle of the office?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows and grinning innocently.

How could she _not_ grin at him? She couldn't help it, or course. They both chuckled, now leaning back again to look at each other, finally admitting that the song was over, and that they couldn't continue to pretend to dance – as much as they may have wanted to.

"That was so much better than our first dance," Jane said with a shy smile. "I didn't even think that was possible."

Kurt chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Just don't let Rich Dotcom hear you say that," he replied, raising his eyebrow at her in amusement. "He may take it personally."

"Well, I don't mean it personally about _him,_ " she replied.

"Oh no?" he asked her teasingly. "Who _should_ be taking it personally, then?" She bit the side of her lip, attempting unsuccessfully to hide the grin that sprang to her face as soon as the words had left his mouth, while looking away and blushing a deep crimson all over again. That only made him laugh harder, and he wound his arms around her once again and hugged her tightly as he laughed, right there in the middle of their office party, not caring who was watching. It was the happiest he had felt in… well… maybe _ever_ , or at least since the age of ten. This was almost impossible to comprehend. Once again without giving the action a second thought, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

Jane felt like her heart might explode at that moment. Thinking back – unintentionally, but doing it nonetheless – to the days when she thought she'd never in a million years be able to make up for what she'd done to them, her team, but mainly to him, she couldn't help but think about how lucky she was to have made it to where she had.

"Did you see all the food over there?" Kurt asked, tipping his head toward the buffet that was set up at the far end of the room, as his arms slid back down from her. His hands went from her back to her shoulders, down her arms, and then reluctantly dropped to his sides, self-consciously. However, he stayed much closer to her than usual, and much closer than he would have stood to anyone else.

Jane just shook her head in response to his question. She hadn't been there very long before she'd attempted to escape, which was when Kurt had caught up with her, and she hadn't paid any attention to the food or drinks – as hard as she knew that Patterson had worked to put everything together, she just couldn't focus on those details when she had felt so out of place to start with.

He was watching her carefully again, his mind obviously working. "When was the last time you ate, anyway?" he asked her suspiciously. She'd been afraid that he would ask her that as soon as he'd mentioned food. She really hadn't been eating much, despite the fuss the doctors had made about her being malnourished after her time at the black site. Really, she couldn't make herself worry too much about it. She was still standing, after all, and she'd made it this far. Strangely she really didn't get hungry very much anymore. Deep down she knew that what she was doing wasn't healthy, but even as her relations with the team had improved, she somehow hadn't changed her new eating habits. She wore baggy clothes that covered her completely anyway, and she just tended to either act as though she'd just eaten or avoid the group altogether around lunch time – she was avoiding them a lot of the time anyway, so this wasn't difficult – so no one seemed to be the wiser. Until now, that is.

Knowing that he was about to get upset with her for what she was about to say, but seeing no way around it, she sighed and shrugged. She wasn't going to lie to his face, that much was for sure. "This morning, maybe?" she replied tentatively. Consulting his watch, he saw that it was after seven o'clock, which meant that they were probably talking about at least twelve hours. The way Jane had shrugged and avoided his eyes when she'd answered, he wouldn't have been surprised if it was longer ago than that.

As expected, he sighed heavily, shaking his head and staring at her. A lecture had already taken shape in his head, but he didn't even bother, knowing that it wouldn't help. She was just as stubborn as he was, after all, and telling her that it was important to eat wouldn't solve the underlying problems. Besides, she was an adult, and she _knew_ that it was important to eat. This was Jane choosing not to. He wondered if this had to do with how powerless she'd been feeling and an attempt to exert control over her life, or with some other problem that he had only recently begun to understand as things had improved between them.

His eyes narrowed at her in frustration, leaning forward slightly as he asked in a low, quiet voice, "So I'm going to have to monitor your eating habits now?" His face was serious, and she knew that it was a threat of a sort, but for some reason, it made her smile. As she grinned at him, he couldn't help but be completely confused, because why in the world was she so happy about his frustration? Hadn't he just said something serious to her? As he waited for an explanation, he couldn't come up with any reason for her behavior.

There was a tug at her heart, and for a second she wanted to cry with happiness. _This_ was the same Kurt who had brought her a muffin on the morning of the second day they'd known each other, because after leaving her at the safe house the night before, he'd known first hand that there was no food there, and that she wouldn't have thought to ask anyone about breakfast any more than anyone else would have thought to get her any. In a way, they were back at the beginning once again, the part before everything had gotten so complicated, when the connection between the two of them had felt unbreakable… When she had known without a shadow of a doubt that he cared about her. Well, maybe there would be a _shadow_ of doubt for a while this time, because they had a lot of baggage to work through, but they also knew each other so much better now, it almost made up for it.

She knew that he was still waiting for her to explain why she was smiling, and she wanted to, but it was hard to know exactly where to start. At this point, he was beginning to look a little worried, in addition to confused. Taking pity on him, she decided to do her best. "I know that you meant that as a threat," she began, still trying to figure out the best way to say what she was thinking, "but it's a threat made by someone who cares… and I…"

Looking away quickly, suddenly overpowered by her emotions, she found that the rest of the sentence got stuck in her throat. She took a deep breath and told herself to try again. "After… _everything_ …" _After everything with the CIA and that whole torture thing_ , her eyes told him as she looked up sadly into his, "I couldn't even have made that threat to myself, because…" The pause was painful, because he had a feeling he knew what was coming. "…Even _I_ didn't care about me."

Slowly, she looked back up at him, and he read in her eyes exactly how badly she had wanted _not_ to have to tell him that. Nodding slowly and feeling his heart break for her for perhaps the thousandth time, he had to work hard to contain his emotions. Having watched her behavior since she'd been back, it wasn't hard to believe that she hadn't cared about herself… And now it hurt to realize that his own attitude and behavior toward her had played a part in this. He, Kurt Weller, who had spent his entire life as a model of professional control, up until the day when this woman had come into his life... was once again overcome by his feelings. Not just his feelings, but his feelings for _her_ , and his feelings that came from the ways that he felt that he had failed her. His eyes closed for a second, because he simply couldn't look into her eyes just then without feeling his heart shattering. It was too much.

 _But it's not too late,_ the voice in his head reminded him. _Despite everything, she's right there in front of you. Somehow, you managed to get another chance to make it right._

Steadying himself, he opened his eyes again, once again looking into hers. This time, however, he smiled – despite slightly watery eyes. "You're going to, though," he told her, as if he were simply stating a fact. When she looked at him in confusion, he added, "To care about yourself." They both had so many emotions swirling around in their heads, making so much noise, she'd momentarily forgotten what he was talking about. "You just need to remember how," he continued. "Luckily…" he paused, watching her looking back at him and almost forgetting to finish his sentence – that's how lost he got simply looking into her eyes. "…You have me to remind you."

"I do?" she asked, sounding surprised. While he didn't like that the fact that she _had him_ , whatever that might mean to her, seemed to surprise her quite so much, he supposed that it was fair. The road back to where they were now – standing so close together in the middle of the FBI holiday party, all the while feeling like they were the only two people in the world – had been anything but easy. Hell, it had been beyond _hard_. It had been _impossible_.

And yet, here they were.

"If you want to," he told her sincerely, in a voice that was barely a whisper, feeling himself holding his breath. Because… what if she said no?

"More than anything," she replied quietly, leaning forward until her forehead rested against his.

He'd instinctively leaned toward her when he saw her doing the same, and as their foreheads rested together, he drew one arm around her. Stepping closer, he glanced at the people around the room whose presence he had completely forgotten about since almost as soon as he and Jane had rejoined the party. People were scattered throughout the room in pairs in small groups, talking and laughing together, having fun. The only people in the whole room who were watching them were the three members of their team, who sat at a table at the opposite end of the room, acting casual but grinning. He smiled in amusement at them, winking, then turned his attention back to Jane.

"Come on," he said, "we're going to go get a little something to eat, and then we'll go sit down."

The fact that he had _not_ phrased it as a question was not lost on her. "I don't suppose you mean in the stairwell? Because it was really peaceful out there…" she asked hopefully as she lifted her head off of his forehead.

Chuckling, he nodded toward the buffet, and they started walking slowly in that direction. "No, Jane. I was thinking of sitting at a table with you," he told her. They reached the buffet just as she sighed dramatically, pretending to be exhausted by this idea. He just grinned and shook his head at her as he picked up a plate and began filling it with small amounts of various different foods. Thinking that maybe he had abandoned the idea of making sure that she ate – even while knowing that it was probably too good to be true – she said nothing about the fact that she hadn't taken anything, simply walked alongside him.

When they reached the end of the row of various foods, however, he turned to her and handed her the plate he'd just filled. Looking back at him in confusion, it was only a few seconds before understanding dawned on her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. She thought he'd been taking food for himself, but really he'd been taking samples of various dishes for _her_. Without a word, he turned and walked back to the other end of the long table and took another plate, filling it with similar, though not exactly the same, quantities of some of the same foods he'd put on her plate as she simply stood and watched him, still in disbelief.

 _He put some food on a plate for you,_ her inner voice observed coolly. _It's not as though he wrote your name in sky writing or something._

Except that as far as Jane was concerned, he'd done exactly that. After having been sure that there was no one in the entire world who cared even a little bit about what happened to her, it was a relief to be proven wrong. As he walked back to one of the tables with the candlelit centerpieces, it was all she could do to follow him. Never mind that there was no way she could eat half of that food. It was the gesture behind it that meant so much to her. They sat down at a large, round table across from two young agents who appeared to be discussing something that was intensely important. They barely looked up at Jane and Kurt when they sat down, and it wasn't too long before they'd disappeared from the table completely.

Jane picked at her food slowly, knowing that Kurt was watching her like a hawk and keeping close track of how much she had eaten. She did her best, and the food was delicious – by far the best that she'd had in a very long time – but she simply couldn't make herself eat more than a little bit of it, afraid that after eating so little over such a long period of time, all she'd do would be to make herself throw up. Glancing up at Kurt apologetically as he finished the food on his plate, she prepared to hear him tell her to eat more than she had.

Instead, he nodded at her progress as he pushed his own plate away from him, then scooted his chair closer to hers, until the legs of the chairs were touching. "Done?" he asked looking at her without a hint of judgement. When she nodded yes, he took her plate, stacking it with his, and then looking back at her fondly. "I gave you too much, I know, but… it was a good first attempt."

"Thanks," she replied shyly as she watched him pulling closer to her, scooting to the edge of his chair, in her direction. She wasn't sure what he was going to do when he stopped moving, and she found herself frozen in place, waiting to find out. Sensing her hesitation, he stopped moving toward her, leaving a few inches between them. Since this was significantly more room than had been between them earlier, he hoped that it would be enough. He sat and looked into her eyes and tried to read her thoughts, just smiling at her.

It was going to take her a while, maybe a long time, to get used to this attention from him. She'd thought she'd been imagining that he was watching her more closely lately, but after tonight, she decided that she'd been exactly right. It wasn't that she _disliked_ it. On the contrary, she'd been _dreaming_ about having him in her life again, for goodness sake, and more than just sitting beside her. It was just going to take some time to get used to it being more than a dream. After all, she could depend on the dream to end, as much as it hurt her every time. As for the reality, well… it would take a while for her _not_ to be afraid that it was about to end as well, that he wasn't just going to disappear. But he certainly seemed to be real at that moment. With that thought, she looked up at him and smiled.

They sat close beside each other, watching the others laughing and joking and simply taking it all in, for quite some time. Little by little, he began to notice that she was moving closer and closer to him, until finally, when the clock told him that the party was almost over, she was suddenly leaning against him gently. Realizing what had happened, she looked up at him and blushed slightly. Thanks to the smile on his face that was radiating pure happiness at that moment, however, she didn't move, even when he slowly put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her gently toward him. It seemed that sitting _near_ him had felt awkward, but when she leaned _against_ him, somehow she felt herself relax, which seemed completely backwards… but that was exactly what had just happened.

 _I should have leaned against him again sooner_ , she thought in wonder. While she couldn't see her own expression, she wouldn't have been surprised if the smile on her face matched the blissful one on his.

And like clockwork, the other thoughts began to arrive. _So what happens now?_ That was a whole other question. She wasn't looking forward to going back to her safe house alone, but the only alternative to going back to her safe house alone was _not_ going back to her safe house alone… which meant either not going back there at all (and then, going… where?), or going back there with… Kurt? Yikes. Why was this so complicated?

 _Not now,_ she told her thoughts. _I'm going to sit here and be happy where I am for a few more minutes._


	7. Since You Asked So Nicely

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

"You ready to go?" Kurt murmured into her ear not too much later. The party was breaking up, and people around them were saying their goodbyes, calling thanks to Patterson for putting together such a wonderful evening. A nervous smile spread across Jane's face at the question – she'd been fighting with herself not to think about what exactly would happen at the end of the party, because going back home to her empty safe house now felt very anticlimactic. She lived there, of course, so going back eventually was inevitable… but she was _not_ looking forward to it. The longer she could put off thinking about it, the better, she had decided.

Except that she couldn't do that anymore, because the party was over, and they had to go _somewhere…_

She leaned back once again, looking into his eyes and suddenly feeling the same sense of calm wash over her as she had earlier. It would be alright, somehow she knew. Of course, she could be wrong – she certainly had been enough times in the past. But as she heard the hum of conversation around her and the buzz of the rapidly ending holiday party where she sat among her coworkers, she couldn't help but remind herself that the only reason that she was here was because she'd decided to take a chance. Even though she'd almost left, she'd taken a risk and stayed when he asked her to stay, and she didn't regret it. This night felt almost… enchanted, and she chose to believe that it wasn't going to all just disappear.

It was true that taking chances hadn't always led her in the right direction, and she had suffered heavily for some of the choices she'd made. But then again, when all was said and done, she'd survived… and there was something to be said for that. She had survived things that would have broken other people many times over, and yes, she was in rough shape, but she was still standing. Well, sitting, at that exact moment, but she was in one piece – chipped and scratched, but in one piece.

Smiling up at him, she nodded in response. "Yep," she replied simply, staring into his eyes for a few extra seconds before she could convince her eyes to break contact and her body to move.

They managed to stand up, remaining close together but for the moment not touching, unsure of exactly how to be this close together and what the right way to act even was. It was hard to know the rules their behavior should follow when they didn't even know what was going on between them. It took only a few seconds to locate Patterson across the room, now saying goodbye to people, exchanging hugs and wishing them "Merry Christmas."

It was only then that Jane realized that the beginning of Christmas Eve was only a few hours away. She, of course, had no plans for Christmas, and the realization of the now immediately impending holiday, the arrival of which she had successfully ignored, was suddenly staring her in the face.

"When Patterson comes up for air, we can go and say good night," he said, leaning closer than necessary to speak into her ear, and hovering there, only inches from her ear even after he'd spoken. As he did, she felt chills run down her back just from his proximity, and all she could do at that moment was to nod her agreement.

Then, as if he had read her previous thought, he moved on to a new topic. "So, what are you up to this weekend?" he asked, leaning even closer, so that his chest was pressed ever so slightly against the back of her shoulder when he spoke into her ear, and then remaining there, leaning forward just a little bit against her. Besides the obvious fact that she liked the contact with him, she was also glad that he wasn't standing in front of her, so that he couldn't see her face head on, because she was sure that her expression would betray the stress that this new topic had instantly caused her.

Shrugging her shoulders as if it was no big deal, as if it were any _other_ regular weekend when she didn't have plans, she turned her head slightly towards him to reply. Her cheek brushed his just a tiny bit as she murmured, "Nothing." She tried to keep the hint of sadness out of her voice, but she knew that she'd failed.

It was just one more time that he felt guilty for how the team had been treating her. No one had thought to involve her in their plans, so she didn't have any. Once again, he couldn't do anything about the past, but he could do his best to fix things right now.

"So then… what you're saying is, you're free this weekend? Because I think you should hang out with me. Oh, and I guess Sarah and Sawyer are going to be around, too… That whole Christmas thing…"

Of all the ways she'd pictured spending Christmas weekend this year, all of them alone, hanging out with Kurt was obviously _infinitely_ better than any of the ones she'd imagined. She'd decided in the last few days that her best option was just to try to sleep through the day, or, if that failed, go for a run on an out of the way trail where she was less likely to run into anyone. After all, her solitude was almost bearable when she didn't have to watch other people busy celebrating. Of course, it was impossible that she was the only one in the world who'd be alone on Christmas, but that hadn't stopped her from _feeling_ like she'd be the only one. No, it was easier to forget that she had no one in her life to celebrate with if she didn't have to watch others celebrating happily together.

But apparently that was no longer happening, and that was already the best Christmas present of all.

She felt the glow of happiness and a smile on her face a mile wide as she turned her head to reply over her shoulder, remarkably calmly, "You think so?" She felt him chuckle against her back as he shook his head at her.

"Let me guess, you're waiting until I offer to find a stairwell for us to sit in before you say yes?" he asked teasingly.

Now it was her turn to laugh, as her eyes followed Patterson, across the room from them and still saying good night to their coworkers. "Maybe I am," she replied thoughtfully. "That's an idea." Even though she wasn't looking at him, since their cheeks were touching gently she felt the slightest movements, and just then she felt the muscles in his face shifting as he smiled. It was the most remarkable sensation, one that threatened to take her breath away.

He was having trouble keeping his arms at his sides, having the urge to put them around her, since she was standing right in front of him. For the moment, however, somehow he resisted. "So… does this mean you want to think about it?" he asked her, the tone of his voice in her ear telling her that he was raising his eyebrows in amusement, though she couldn't see them.

"Are you kidding? I don't want to think about anything else," she told him with a grin, knowing that this was not at all what he'd meant.

"So… is that a yes?" he asked, still trying to pry the answer he wanted out of her, just because he wanted to hear her say it.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?" she asked, feigning ignorance and turning around to face him with an innocent look on her face.

His eyes widened in pretend frustration and he stepped closer to her, missing the proximity they'd had when he'd been right behind her. "The question," he said in a low voice, "was whether you wanted to spend Christmas with me."

It suddenly occurred to her then that he might be asking just because he felt sorry for her, and as much as she liked the idea of spending time with him, it wasn't a nice feeling to think that he was asking her only out of obligation. "You don't have to do that, you know," she whispered, looking down suddenly. She didn't want him to offer something like that out of pity. After all, she'd be fine on her own if need be. Hadn't she made it this far?

"Of course not," he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I know I don't have to." He paused, and her curiosity got the best of her as she looked back up at him very slowly. "And you certainly don't have to come. But I'd like it if you did…" She was watching him carefully, as if she was trying to figure something out, and he realized that his behavior had undergone a dramatic shift over the course of this one day. It wasn't just today, though, he knew as he thought back to recent weeks. Yes, they'd slowly been getting along better, trusting each other again only very slowly. He'd had his good days and his bad days, and he knew that he'd taken some of it out on her, which hadn't been fair. He'd been doing his best… but his best had kind of sucked, if he was being honest with himself.

Nodding in understanding, he sighed. "I know that I haven't… that this seems just out of the blue. But I don't want you to think that I'm asking because I feel like I have to, or I feel bad for you." She just continued to watch him, curious what he would say next. "I just… I don't know how to explain it." He sighed heavily, his head dropping down and his hand going to the back of his neck before he looked back up at her. "I'm an asshole, Jane. I don't know how I made myself forget everything we… I just couldn't… I was so…" He was at a loss for words, and suddenly wondered why she had humored him as much as she had.

He looked increasingly frustrated, and as confused as she was by the sudden shift in his behavior towards her, she couldn't help by take pity on him. After all, despite everything, they did still have a connection. She'd doubted it for a long time, but after today… she felt it again. And hadn't he been nothing but completely sweet and honest with her all evening? Not that one evening was all it took for her to trust him again, and it shouldn't be.

 _But it's a starting point_ , the voice in her head pointed out.

"I think," she said slowly, smiling at him and taking one of his hands gently in hers, holding it loosely between them, "it's going to be okay. At least… I hope so..." She watched as relief flooded his face, and she basked in the glow of being able to take _away_ his anguish this time. It had been a long since she'd had that opportunity. On the contrary, it felt like it had been a very long time since she'd done anything but cause him distress of one kind or another. "And to answer your question," she said, seeing hope flash across his face, "I would like that, too."

And there it was, that smile again, the one that no one else ever managed to get from him, the one that made his whole face light up.

There was a flash of blonde beside them then, and Patterson appeared, her face flush with happiness. "Hey, you guys," she greeted them. "I can't believe the party's over and we didn't get to hang out… but it looks like _you_ did…" She looked down at their hands, clasped together, and before Jane had a chance to decide whether or not to hold on, she felt Kurt's hand squeeze hers. She and Kurt both looked slightly embarrassed, which made Patterson smile even harder.

"Hey Patterson, you were right," Kurt told her, "We _all_ needed this party." She beamed back at him, delighted beyond any hopes that she might have had about the way things had turned out. Dr. White had been right, she _did_ feel better – and obviously, they did, too.

"Do you need help cleaning up?" Jane asked. She hated the thought that Patterson would have to clean it all up by herself.

"Not tonight," she told them. "A few people are going to come back and help me with it tomorrow."

"What time?" Jane asked, with every intention of joining them to help.

"Count us in," Kurt added, and Jane glanced at him, smiling warmly.

 _Us._

Had she really tried to walk out of this party, tried to slip away from these people, only a few hours ago? Because at that moment, she could no longer remember why she would _ever_ have wanted to miss this.

"Uh, around nine, maybe? But you guys don't have to…" Patterson protested.

"Well, I need to confirm the plans for the next few days with my sister, but if it's possible, we'll be here," Kurt told her.

Patterson smiled back at him, shooting Jane a quick look that told her than the use of the pronoun _we_ hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Oh, is Sarah in town?" Patterson asked Kurt. Jane was confused when Kurt shook his head – hadn't he just mentioned spending time with her and with Sawyer on Christmas?

"No, she's out in Pennsylvania, at my dad's old place," Kurt said, "But I should be seeing her tomorrow night." Patterson nodded, smiling at them both again.

"Thank you both so much for coming, and for all of your help," Patterson told them sincerely as she stepped forward first to hug Weller, and then Jane. "If you're busy tomorrow, it's no big deal, I swear."

"I'll let you know," Kurt nodded at her, smiling as she turned to talk to other guests who had approached her. As Jane and Kurt turned, but before they had taken a single step, Zapata was there in front of them, with Reade close behind her.

"Hey, guys," Zapata said knowingly, grinning at them. She was moving a little more slowly than she had been earlier, and she wasn't speaking as loudly, but she had the same expression on her face – the one that said that there were a million things that she wanted to say, but she was biting her tongue. Kurt wondered if her buzz was wearing off, and if she'd had enough to drink that she'd be hurting in the morning. Or who knew, it was still early… maybe she was just getting started

"You taking off?" Zapata asked with a gleam in her eye.

"Yeah, it's that time," Jane said with a shrug. "Did you guys have fun?" The expression on Zapata's face said something along the lines of _We had fun watching you_ , but she just smiled innocently and nodded.

"Yeah, it was great," Zapata replied, glancing behind her at Reade, who nodded in agreement. "You guys want to go get a drink or something?" she asked the three of them.

Reade's eyebrows shot up and he looked at her in surprise. "I'm not sure you need any more to drink, as amusing as you've been this evening," he told her.

Zapata turned and looked at him again, smiling devilishly and nodding her head. "You may or may not be right about that," she told him, winking dramatically. Reade just rolled his eyes.

Jane suddenly yawned then, unexpectedly, covering her mouth in embarrassment and making the others laugh. "Sorry," she said when she finished. "It's been a long…" She struggled for the proper increment of time to use – day, week, month, _year_ … all of them would have worked. And while she'd been sleeping _better_ recently than she had a few months ago, and she wasn't having _as many_ nightmares, she still couldn't say that she ever slept _well_. Really, since she'd been Jane she'd never slept well. The others just nodded, despite the fact that she left her sentence unfinished.

"Merry Christmas, you guys, have a good one," Kurt said to Reade and Zapata. The others echoed Kurt's sentiment, and hugs and handshakes were exchanged, between the four of them. "Come on, time to go," Kurt said to Jane, just barely putting his hand on her lower back to steer her towards the elevator – without thinking about what he was doing for a millisecond. It wasn't as if he'd never done it before… even if it had been a _long_ time. Zapata and Reade had stood and watched the other two start toward the elevator, Zapata somehow stopping her mouth from hanging open, but just barely. Reade elbowed her in the side to get her attention, and they began looking around the room for Patterson, who was no longer nearby.

"Can you believe…?" Zapata's unfinished sentence hung in the air.

"You're gonna tell me you're _surprised_?" Reade asked her in surprise.

"Well, yeah. I mean, if this had happened a long time ago, no, I wouldn't have been surprised. But now…? After I thought they would literally never speak to each other again? Yes, I'm surprised."

"I don't think it was ever about _if_ ," Reade said thoughtfully. "It was only a case of _when_."

"Maybe," Zapata replied, her brow creasing as she thought about this idea that Weller and Jane were always going to happen. _Did it even work that way for anyone?_

"Come on, there's Patterson," Reade said, pointing to where he'd spotted the blonde, now at the far end of the room once again.

Thankfully, the wait for the elevator wasn't long, and Jane and Kurt stepped inside tiredly, the doors closing before anyone else could join them. Most of the crowd had already gone, and they were among the last to leave. It had been another long day in the never ending string of long days. After pushing the button that would take them to the locker room, he stepped back and leaned against the back wall, where she had already stationed herself.

As soon as he was beside her, she leaned her head gently against his shoulder once again, like she had done in the stairwell. This was trickier now that, thanks to the sparkly heels that were now hurting her feet quite a bit, she was almost the same height as him. However, she slouched slightly and leaned back against the wall to make up for her newfound height, so it worked. Sighing softly and closing her eyes, she couldn't help thinking that this was once again perfect.

The difference was that this time, glancing down at her with a smile, he reached over and loosely took her hand – or her finger, really, since he simply hooked his middle finger around hers, so only the backs of their other fingers were touching. There was something so simple, and yet so perfect about that moment, even though it only lasted a few seconds before the elevator dinged loudly and, to their ears, rudely, alerting them that they had reached their destination.

Stepping off the elevator reluctantly, Kurt somehow managed to brush his thumb against every one of her fingers as he let go of the one that he had been holding for the past minute. She hadn't been looking down, so she didn't know how he had done it, only that she felt herself shiver because of it, and that there was a smile on her face without her even realizing it was there. They continued into the locker room just as three other, younger agents were leaving, wishing each other Merry Christmas as they passed. Judging from the lack of noise in the locker room, they were probably the only ones there for the moment, which was just the way Jane liked it.

They each went to their respective lockers, Jane pulling out a small bag and closing hers again immediately, making a point to take the path that took her past Kurt's locker on the way to the changing area by the showers. "I'm just going to change," she said, starting to walk by him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, making her stop in her tracks and turn around to smile at him, slightly confused. "That dress looks beautiful on you." There was no trace of anything but the utmost sincerity in his voice or his face, and she could feel herself blushing.

"Thanks," she said, allowing herself to accept the compliment this time. "But I'm ready for something more comfortable. These shoes are _killing_ me, and I can't quite do this dress with sneakers… Besides, it's getting really cold out there. It would be even colder in a dress." Then, thinking for a few seconds, she added, "I heard we're supposed to get a storm this weekend. Maybe even some snow." Her eyes shone with childlike excitement at the prospect of snow, and he couldn't help but smile back at her.

"That reminds me," he said off-handedly, "when you come back, I need to fill you in a little about this weekend." He raised his eyebrows devilishly, which made her wonder what in the world he was talking about.

Narrowing her eyes at him playfully and looking as curious as she felt, she simply nodded. "Okay," she said unsurely as she turned and walked down the aisle toward the changing rooms.

Kurt remembered before Jane did, and without a word, he got up and followed her, quietly enough that she hadn't even heard him behind her. She went inside a similar – though thankfully _not_ the same – curtained stall as she had been in earlier, when she'd been so upset, and put down the bag of her things. She was then ready to take off her dress, which was when she realized that, of course, she couldn't reach the top of the zipper. That had been the whole problem in the first place, after all.

"Dammit," he heard her mutter from behind the curtain as he leaned his back against the end of the row of lockers just outside her changing room, casually, arms crossed and a slight grin on his face for realizing before she had that she would need help. He couldn't help but smile when she pushed the curtain open a second later and looked up in surprise, not having expected to see him there, before she rolled her eyes in mock annoyance and smiled despite herself.

 _Damn. Why does he have to be so good at this?_ she wondered. It was… Well, she could say that it was annoying, but it wasn't. It was really damn cute, that's what it was.

"Forget something?" he asked her curiously, as if he had no idea… except that the smirk on his face gave him away.

She suddenly heard herself asking _him_ that same question, on one of the very first days she'd known him… had it been the first time he'd taken her out in the field? She was pretty sure that it had been. He'd made her sit in the car, parked by the curb in Chinatown, only to return a few minutes later because he needed her to translate Chinese to English for the man upstairs who he was attempting to question about Chao. He'd opened the car door and it had been her asking him if he'd forgotten something.

Her eyes locked on his for an extra second, as she wondered if he was remembering that day, too, before she glanced at the floor for just a second and then bit her lip, finally whispering, "Would you please, uh…?" She waved one hand over her shoulder in the direction of her back, but stood facing him, so she saw him when he pushed himself up off the end of the row of lockers, walking slowly towards her without taking his eyes off of her and smiling the whole time, as if he was enjoying himself immensely.

She was just about to turn around – _I swear, I_ _ **was**_ _,_ she told herself – when he said, "Since you asked so nicely." He hadn't taken his eyes off of her in the whole time since she'd opened the curtain, and she was feeling herself blushing a deeper and deeper pink, and feeling warmer and warmer despite the chill in the air. Of course, that was _her_ line from that same day, which told her that he was indeed remembering it as well. Just the idea that their minds immediately went to the same thing made her unable to keep from smiling.

Since she was so focused on looking into his eyes, something that he certainly didn't want to discourage, he walked up to her and didn't stop until he was only inches away, slowing dramatically just before he reached her and stopping to look into her green eyes for a few seconds before doing anything else. She still didn't show any sign of intending to turn around, though he didn't think it appeared to be because she was _choosing_ not to. No, maybe she just felt as lost in his eyes and he did in hers.

Therefore, having no desire to break eye contact with her, he reached his hands up and, first, rested them on her shoulders for a second, which seemed to wake her up enough to realize that she had been at least _intending_ to turn around. However, before she could try to do so, he reached over her shoulders to her back, gripping her zipper easily with two fingers on one hand, while holding the dress flat with his other hand, which he accomplished by laying his hand nearly flat on her back – only the thin black material between his skin and hers. His hands hesitated just like that for more than a few seconds, perfectly still.

At that moment he had the urge to pull her closer to him and never let go – and while maybe there would be a time for something like that, this sadly wasn't it. Therefore, he finally did what he was there to do, tugging the zipper down several inches, farther than she had had him zip it up in the first place, in order to be sure that she could reach it. The tips of his fingers hesitated again, not moving this time, simply resting against her, some on fabric and a few on skin, so lightly that it was almost imperceptible to both of them. _Almost._

He'd been watching his fingers, peering over her shoulder, as she had attempted to continue watching his face, though from a slightly askew angle as he moved closer, but now he leaned his head back so that they were once again staring into each other's eyes, and then, only slowly, he moved his hands back to her shoulders.

"Thanks," she whispered, so quietly she wasn't sure that he could hear her, even though his face was only inches from hers. He smiled at her, the smile that lit up his face completely, and slowly let his hands drop from her shoulders, back down to his sides.

"You should be able to reach it now…" he told her quietly, a hint of a question in his tone. She obliged him and the fact that he obviously wanted to be sure, and she wiggled slightly as she awkwardly slid one arm behind her to attempt to find her zipper, catching herself thinking that it would have been so much easier if he'd just unzipped it all the way… The thought made her blush a deep pink, and she looked down, pretending to just be focusing on finding the zipper, which she did a few seconds later.

"Yep, got it," she confirmed, looking back up at him. And then, before she closed the curtain, she held her eyes locked on him again for several long seconds, before saying, once again, "Thanks," only a little bit louder this time. He just winked at her, a slightly devilish smile playing across his features, and she shook her head as she closed the curtain.

 _Am I absolutely_ _ **sure**_ _that today isn't a dream?_ she wondered as she slowly pulled her zipper down and then carefully stepped out of her dress. She changed as quickly as she could, since the air was very chilly on her bare skin, and soon she was back in one of the most commonly worn, basic outfits – jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. She carefully folded her dress into a small enough bundle that it could fit into her bag, gathered up her things and walked back out, once again taking the route that took her past Kurt's locker.

He was no longer at his locker, she noticed, but when she rounded the corner she saw him sitting on the bench by _her_ locker. He looked up as she approached, and she found that she couldn't help but smile. She'd been having that problem quite a lot around him this evening.

Somehow in the short time since he'd unzipped her dress, he'd changed his clothes as well, into his more casual, everyday work outfit. He looked much more comfortable now, leaning forward, his elbows propped up on his knees.

"You got changed fast," she observed, opening her locker against to retrieve her leather jacket and a few other items.

"No zippers on my back to fight with," he said with a grin, sitting up slowly to watch her.

"Haha," she replied good-naturedly. As she'd walked back slowly to her locker, she'd thought that she would have felt awkward after what had just happened a few minutes before – the whole zipper incident number two – but she found that instead, she felt _more_ comfortable with him, not less – which was pretty much the opposite of awkward.

As she closed her locker and turned around to look at him, she remembered that he'd said something about talking about the plans for the weekend. She'd been slightly confused when he'd told Patterson that Sarah and Sawyer were at his dad's house in Pennsylvania, after telling her that he – they – would be spending Christmas with them, but she figured that that just meant that Sarah and Sawyer would be driving out to New York in the next day or so. She hadn't thought much of it at all.

"So what did you want to tell me about this weekend?" she asked curiously, standing in front of him.

He stood up, stepping closer to her, and she felt her pulse quicken just a little bit. "Let's talk in the car," he said. Since they were both ready to go, it seemed like a better idea to have the conversation they were about to have away from any potential prying ears… Not that he expected a scene, but just because he kept his personal life closely guarded… as much as he could anyway.

"Okay," she agreed, though… she didn't really know where they were actually _going_. Was he dropping her off at her safe house? She did live there, after all, so it wasn't a wildly unexpected thing for him to do. Still, once again she dreaded even having to _think_ of this day coming to an end, much less of it actually happening, not after it had taken a turn for the best. But she decided not to worry about that until it was necessary. After all, she was with Kurt.


	8. Exactly Right

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

The walk to the car was far less awkward than she would have expected, all things considered, though they each kept their hands at their sides. At least once every other minute, their hands or their shoulders would brush together, which would make them each blush, smile and glance at the other, not necessarily in that order or at the same time. It _should_ have been awkward, and yet somehow… for the most part, it wasn't. She was, however, getting more and more curious by the minute about what he wanted to tell her.

Once they were in the car, he turned the key in the ignition to start the heat, and then turned to face her, blowing into his cupped hands slightly to warm them up from the chilly walk through the garage.

"So, tell me," she prompted him, turning to face him as well. "What's the big secret?"

He shook his head, chuckling slightly, and glanced down for a second before looking back up at her. "It's no big secret," he replied. "It's just… there's a little more information about this weekend I should give you up front, before you make a final decision. And if you don't want to come along, I totally understand. Trust me, it's fine."

"Okay, now you'd better start explaining, because I'm both fascinated and a little bit scared," Jane said with a laugh.

Smiling and winking at her, the way he sometimes used to, he shook his head, trying to think of where to start. "Okay, so you heard me tell Patterson that Sarah and Sawyer are out at my dad's old house in Pennsylvania," he said evenly, his eyes returning to hers and a more serious look coming over him. It made sense, because he was always serious the very few times he talked about either his dad or Clearfield, Pennsylvania. What had happened there had left him traumatized for twenty-five years, after all. "Okay, well, they flew out from Portland yesterday, and they're there through Christmas. Sarah and I are going to sell the house after the new year sometime, probably in the spring. There's nothing left there for us, and… well, neither of _us_ have any intention of living there…"

Jane was pretty sure that she now saw where this was going, but she waited for him to say what he wanted to say. Smiling encouragingly, she nodded and waited for him to go on.

"So anyway, she got this funny idea that we – her, Sawyer and I – should spend Christmas out there one more time before we sell the house next year. She thinks it'll give me _closure_ , or something like that." He almost spit the word _closure_ from his mouth, Jane couldn't help but notice, and she looked at him in surprise. Of course, she hadn't spent a lot of time with him since his dad had died – almost none – and they certainly hadn't talked about any of it. They'd barely talked about things between the two of _them_ , much less anyone else. So though she was surprised to hear his tone change so quickly, at the same time, she understood. To have found out what Kurt had… it was enough to scar someone for life. He was functioning better than she could possibly imagine doing after something like that.

 _That's interesting, coming from the woman who had her memory erased and was sent into the FBI as a Trojan Horse for a terrorist organization, etc etc,_ the voice in her head said flatly. _But I think what happened to you would still be more traumatizing._

 _Except that I can't_ _ **remember**_ _half of what happened to me,_ Jane interjected. _I certainly don't have twenty-five years' worth of traumatized memories. Now shut up._

Refocusing on Kurt, she saw him looking down in front of him, lost in his thoughts.

"The only time I've been there in – I don't know… fifteen? Twenty years? Was when Sarah and I drove out there the night my dad died… to look for where he—" Kurt tried to push through the rest of the sentence, but his voice cracked and then simply refused to work after that.

A wave of guilt and sympathy crashed over Jane at that moment. That night had been the beginning of Hell for her, but looking back now, she could also see that it had been the beginning of a different kind of Hell for him as well. She could only imagine how he'd felt when Sarah had asked him to go back there again, and so soon. She appreciated what the younger Weller was trying to do for her brother, but it seemed risky. Kurt was an expert at detaching from his feelings, after all, and working through things might not come so easily. Closure sounded like a good idea… but would it work? Or would he simply torture himself for the time that he was there, and then some more after he got home? Would it make things better, or would it make things worse?

"She might be right," Jane said, tentatively reaching over to lay her hand on his arm. It was hard, in the car, because they were held back from each other by the center console and could only get so close… "And even if she isn't…"

"It'll make her very happy," he said softly, looking at Jane, glancing down to where her hand rested on his arm, and watching her smile grow as he finished her sentence. He shook his head to clear his thoughts then, and continued. "So, anyway, I would love to have your company this weekend. _Really_. Even more than usual. But it means a road trip, and the weather is now calling for more than a little bit of snow. I'm actually pretty anxious to get on the road, before it gets bad. Sarah said that it hasn't started out there yet, but that part of Pennsylvania tends to get a lot of snow in the winter, so…"

He paused, trying to gauge her reaction. Considering that her hand had remained on his arm, her thumb moving back and forth slowly, he thought that he might actually have a decent chance that she'd say yes, even though he knew that it was a crazy thing to be asking her. Somehow, he just felt like it was the right thing to do.

When he'd imagined the trip before, he'd felt a heavy sense of dread about going back there. He'd told himself that after that night, he would _never_ go back there. But it had meant so much to Sarah, and he hated to deny _her_ something that they wouldn't get another chance to do, the chance to have closure of her own. After all, his father was her father as well, and as someone who had always believed in their father's innocence, unlike Kurt, learning that their father actually _had_ killed Taylor Shaw had been hard on Sarah in a different way. She hadn't spent the past twenty-five years convinced that their father was guilty, like her brother had.

But the idea of going back to Clearfield one last time _with Jane_ … Even though she wasn't Taylor, in some ways the thought of being there with her calmed him. Not that that should have been a surprise, because now that he'd stopped being angry with her, the thought of her seemed to calm him no matter what. Despite everything, for a reason that he couldn't explain, the thought of going back to Clearfield one last time _with_ _Jane_ made him feel like there just might be closure after all.

"Originally I was going to leave tomorrow in the late morning or early afternoon, because it's about four and a half hours from here, occasionally a little more. But now, with the storm that's supposed to be moving through the whole northern half of Pennsylvania tomorrow night, I'm thinking I should leave first thing tomorrow. Just to give myself time, play it safe…" Again, he stopped and looked at her, growing more doubtful the longer she said nothing. "What do you think? I mean, I know it's kind of a… Well, it's not usually something people ask when they're not…"

He was dancing around the fact that they weren't a couple, that at this same time the previous day they hadn't even been on friendly terms with each other, and therefore hadn't even been speaking to each other unless there was no reason to be. Things had still been too tense between them, despite Kurt having insisted that they were 'friends,' not that long ago. No, no matter the intensity of their feelings that had resurfaced for each other, it was all still… well, it just wasn't the kind of thing that _happened_. After all, it had literally been only that same day that they'd come to a real understanding. Even for someone who moved fast, which neither of them _were_ , that would have been moving extremely fast. No, both Jane and Kurt tended toward slow and cautious when it came to dealing with other people. _Very_ cautious.

But then again, it wasn't as though they'd just met. He could argue that she knew him better than most people – if not _all_ people – had _ever_ known him, even his own sister, who he'd known the longest. And as for her, well, he knew her _better_ than the two people who had known her for most or all of her life, thanks to the fact that she was now a completely different person.

Jane grinned at him then, squeezing her hand on his arm. This version of current Kurt Weller, the one sitting in front of her nervously asking her to go to his family's house for Christmas – never mind that she already knew and loved Sarah and Sawyer and that really, he _shouldn't_ have been nervous – and who was suddenly too shy to come out and say, "And I know that it's really weird because we're not a couple," probably because after one day it almost _felt_ like they were a couple, or at least, something very much like one… this version of him was simply too cute for words _._

"Yeah," Jane said, nodding at him with a straight face, "It seems like this should be very weird, right?" The relief in his face was obvious now that he knew that he wasn't going to have to explain any further what he was trying to say.

"I guess you could say that, yeah," he replied. "It almost like it's the opposite of weird."

Her face broke out into a smile then, one of the biggest ones he could remember seeing from her so far. "So… the fact that it should be weird, but it isn't… is _that_ weird?" She bit her lip to hold back her laughter, and when he chuckled, she joined in, glad that she could lessen the tension that had suddenly built up. For once, she was glad that _she_ hadn't been the one who'd been over thinking things.

When they stopped laughing, however, his face grew serious again and he looked at her uncertainly. Finally taking pity on him, she smiled warmly and said, "Well, as exciting as it was going to be to sit in my empty safe house and stare at the wall all weekend, if you want some company on your road trip in the snow, I'd love to help you out with that." He reached over and put his left hand on top of hers, on his right arm, and then took her hand in his, moving it down his arm so that he could switch, and hold her left hand loosely in his right.

As he had moved her hand down to his, a flicker of a frown passed across his face for a second. He didn't like to hear that she hadn't had any plans for Christmas, even though he should have easily been able to guess that.

 _Who exactly did you expect her to have planned to get together with?_ he asked himself.

It was ridiculous for him to feel guilty, of course, he told himself, because it wasn't part of his job to ensure that she wasn't alone… and at least in theory, she could have been out in the world meeting people over the past few months. She could have known someone who would have invited her to do something…

 _Right,_ the voice in his head said, _So the woman who was abducted and literally tortured by the CIA for three months after learning that she was a mole for a terrorist organization who'd had her memory wiped is well-adjusted enough to go out into the world and make friends?_ When he said the words in his head, even _he_ knew that it was ridiculous. It wasn't _impossible_ , of course, but it was simply not going to happen.

 _But you're here now, trying to fix it,_ he told himself. _Once again, you can't go back and fix the rest of it. But you can still do something now._

She saw the look pass across his face and wondered if it was something she should ask him about, but the shadow passed from his expression and he smiled broadly, so she let it go.

 _I'm going to the Weller family's house for Christmas,_ she thought to herself in awe. _Four and a half or more hours in the car with Kurt_ – which, she could admit, would have been enough to make her happy all on its own _. No empty safe house for me_ _ **all weekend**_ _._ This was simply getting better and better the more she thought about it. Again, it _should_ have been weird, uncomfortable, awkward… and yet, it wasn't. It felt exactly right. And so, because she could find no reason _not_ to, she found herself getting very excited.

"So, logistically speaking," Kurt said, now ready to talk details, "we should leave as early tomorrow as possible."

"No problem," Jane replied without thinking, "I never really sleep anyway." Granted, Kurt had known this at one point, but she hadn't exactly planned to announce it to him. Still, if she was going to his house for the weekend, he probably would have figured it out sooner than later…

Kurt's brain screeched to an abrupt halt and his mouth opened in surprise. He looked at her with concern, surprised by this development when he had been focused on making plans. It took him a few seconds to switch gears as he watched her, worry suddenly visible on his face. "Are you… having nightmares again?"

Jane shrugged, looking away. "Again… still… whatever you want to call it. They never really stopped completely, and then after…" She shrugged and shook her head, and was about to try to pull her hand back from his so that she could clasp it with her right hand, which was fidgeting alone against her right leg. However, in the split second before she tried to move her hand away, she felt him squeeze it a little more firmly, as if to tell her that he wasn't going to let her retreat.

It had been so long since anyone – and it had been Kurt the only other time that she could remember, as well – had made her feel that way, that they were there for her no matter what, she suddenly found that she wanted to cry with relief. She'd convinced herself that she was fine on her own, that she didn't need or want anyone else, because it had been necessary for self-preservation.

She'd done such an effective job of lying to herself, however, that even _she_ had been surprised to find out that it wasn't true. She _did_ need someone, and not just anyone, as she had discovered when she'd tried going out with Oliver. He was a nice enough guy, remarkably uncomplicated, but when it came down to it… he wasn't Kurt. At first, Jane had thought that that had worked in Oliver's favor, only to quickly realize that that was his greatest weakness.

Kurt nodded, filing this information away. It was yet another thing that he _should_ have known about Jane, but hadn't, and just another reason why he felt that he needed to make it up to her. "Okay, uh… I'm sorry, Jane. Is there… anything I can do?" He suddenly felt helpless, and though he never liked that feeling, when it came to Jane, he simply couldn't stand by and do nothing. He promised himself that he would find a wayto do _something_ to help her with this.. _._ though at that moment he was at a loss as to what that would be.

Jane just shook her head quickly. "No, I mean… I don't have them nearly as often as I used to. It's… getting better, slowly…"

He nodded, not sure what else he could do or say on the topic. "Well, if you think of anything…" Nodding, she smiled back at him appreciatively, and he swore to himself that he'd pay attention.

 _It shouldn't be hard to pay closer attention to her,_ he told himself, _considering that you were barely speaking before, and now you're… well, whatever it is you're doing._

"So, you want to leave first thing tomorrow morning," she prompted him again, anxious to steer the conversation away from her, and back to their road trip.

Looking momentarily confused, he suddenly remembered what they'd been talking about when he'd stumbled across the fact that Jane was still having nightmares, which had thrown him off track. "What? Oh, right," he said, blinking quickly and then nodding. "So, I can drop you off tonight, and then pick you up around…" He looked at her quizzically, trying to figure out what counted as 'not too early' in Jane's head. She was known to be at work at six o'clock in the morning sometimes, so… "six?"

Nodding slowly, she said, "Yeah, that would work." It seemed silly, though, if he was that anxious to get on the road, to have him drive out to her place twice… It wasn't far, but it was still an extra stop. However, she didn't think she was quite bold enough to suggest what she was thinking.

 _It's_ _ **not**_ _that big a deal_ , the voice in her head assured her, but she wasn't so sure. Things had been good between them for less than one day, so it was hard to know _anything_ for sure.

 _You know it's not as simple as saying "It's been less than one day,"_ the voice assured her. _It's not as though you just met._ _ **That**_ _would be crazy. You've known him for a long time, for better or worse. You two are an exception to every rule in existence. Even when you_ _ **had**_ _just met, it wasn't like it was the first day. There was_ _ **always**_ _something between you…_

As usual, her thoughts must have showed on her face, because only a few seconds later, she heard him saying, "Jane, you look like you have another idea."

Her cheeks flushed immediately, and she nodded slowly once again. Looking down at her right hand, which was bouncing slightly against her right leg, not having her left hand to fidget with since Kurt was still holding it, she replied, "Well I was just thinking, if you want to save the time it would take to pick me up in the morning, I could…." She bit her lip, wishing there was some way that she could _not_ have to say the rest of her sentence. Alas, she couldn't think of one, so she forced herself to continue. "I could just crash on your couch and then we could leave early."

Probably because she just wanted it over with, her last sentence had come out in rapid-fire succession, as if the faster she said it, the faster it would be over with, and it made him smile. After all, he'd just had the same thought, but had hesitated to say anything. The other reason he was smiling was that she looked so darn cute, as flustered as she was by what she'd just said. "Funny that you should mention that," he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly, "I had just been thinking the same thing."

She looked up then, surprised, and saw him smiling at her, and felt herself relax. _Awkward situation number five million four, diffused,_ she thought to herself in relief.

Nodding with relief at the knowledge that she wasn't going to have to spend a night alone in her safe house at least for the next few days, she couldn't help but smile. The weekend away from her safe house with Kurt in itself was quite possibly the best Christmas present she could have asked for, and certainly more than she'd dreamed that she would have gotten.

"Alright, so we have a plan," Kurt said, returning to logistical planning mode. "We'll swing by your place so you can get whatever you need for the next few days, and then go back to my place." It felt strange to say to Jane, _We'll go back to my place_ …

 _No, strange is_ _ **not**_ _the right word_ , he corrected himself in his head. Then something else occurred to him.

"Hey, Jane, what kind of winter stuff do you have? You know, for snow." This could be an issue at this time of night if they were going to leave first thing. If they _had_ to drive out to the suburbs to find a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart, he supposed they could, but it would be better if they didn't have to.

Jane shrugged, the reality of her situation being that at this point, she had _no_ winter gear at all. Of course, she had _had_ some the previous year. Patterson and Zapata had taken her shopping numerous times to be sure that she had everything she needed. She had had a lot of things last year that she didn't have this year…

 _Because everything in her safe house when Kurt had arrested her had been taken away._

She looked back down at her lap again, the words only just barely coming out loud enough for him to hear. "Nothing… _anymore_."

The second word blared like a siren in his head, acting like a noise so loud that he was deaf for a few seconds afterwards, his head spinning a little bit. _Dammit_ , he thought. _I should have realized…_ But it was done, the words were out, and all of the things that had happened, had happened. _Forward,_ he told himself, _not backwards._

"Oh… uh… right," he said awkwardly, nodding at her and squeezing her hand once again. "Well, when we get to my place I'll see if Sarah left anything behind. Or maybe she has extra stuff that you can use once we get out there. Sarah tends to overpack, to put it nicely…" He smiled as he remembered how many times he'd given his sister a hard time about how much she would cram into a suitcase for even just a weekend trip. She always tended to pack as though she was never coming back – she was incredibly fast at doing it, however. "And if we need to, we'll stop somewhere that's open twenty-four hours. Okay?" he added, hoping that talking about Sarah and reassuring her that they could still get what they needed would draw Jane back out from her thoughts… especially _those_ thoughts.

Looking back over at him slowly, she forced herself to smile, though she didn't feel it and knew that it probably didn't quite reach her eyes. She nodded quickly, the nod that told him that she wasn't quite okay, but that she was trying to be.

"Alright, so… we have a plan," Kurt declared soothingly. "Let me just send Sarah a text now, before I forget, and we'll get going to your place." After all, they were still sitting in the parking garage at the FBI, and the party was long since over by this point. It was getting late, especially since there was a lot to do between now and early morning tomorrow.

Needing both hands for this endeavor, he squeezed her hand once more before letting it go, and she withdrew it slowly back to her lap, missing the contact already. While Kurt typed rapidly into his phone, Jane sat and tried to imagine a Christmas with Kurt, Sarah and Sawyer. She knew just how dysfunctional he thought his little family was, but she also knew that next to what she had, his family was perfect. For the first time, she allowed herself to enjoy the thought of Christmas, rather than dread it as she had been doing for months.

Almost as soon as Kurt hit send and set his phone down in the console between them, it began to buzz excitedly, again and again. Glancing down at it, all Jane could make out was a _lot_ of exclamation marks. Kurt picked it up again to see what his sister was typing so fast, and he chuckled. "She's just a _little bit_ excited," he said, as his phone continued to buzz.

 _How in the world is she typing so fast?_ he wondered. Kurt wasn't exactly fast at texting, but he did alright. He had several things working against him - his fingers were far bigger than the keys on the tiny keyboard, and the autocorrect on his phone tended to have a _very_ strange sense of humor, so he spent a fair amount of time correcting crazy mistakes… but his sister was making him look _extremely_ slow just then.

He held up his phone so that Jane could see the messages that had now suddenly filled his entire screen, most of the small text bubbles at least half full of exclamation marks, which made her smile. "I wonder which of the three of us is most excited…" she said jokingly, only realizing after she'd said it quite what she'd just said.

"So you're excited?" he asked her teasingly, raising his eyebrows and grinning happily.

She couldn't help but smile, and she rolled her eyes at his teasing. "Let's see… I'm happy that I'll be able to give my detail a few days off for Christmas, because I know _they'll_ be excited about that," she started.

"That's a good point," he interjected, opening a new message and typing into his phone to inform the relevant parties of that exact thing before he forgot.

"Okay," he replied a minute later, "I just took care of that."

"Thanks," she said, returning to her list, "I'm excited to not have to sit alone in my house for Christmas."

He winced slightly at that one, she noticed, but she said nothing about it. After all, she _wasn't_ going to have to do that, which was a cause for her to be happy, so he should be too. None of the other "what would have beens" mattered.

He just hated that that had even been something that she'd been planning to do. He vowed to himself to do better – just generally to do a better job of taking care of Jane.

"I'm excited to see a place I've never seen before," she said tactfully. Honestly, she was excited to be going to Clearfield, though she wouldn't say that to Kurt. She knew that he had extremely mixed feelings, at best, about going there himself, and that he would have probably have preferred never to go back there again. But after hearing the stories, and after thinking for so long that she was Taylor Shaw, she felt a special closeness with the little girl who she had never been, and who had died so long before she'd ever been Jane… it was hard to explain, but she felt like going to Clearfield was a gift to her that she hadn't expected to get. Besides, she had a feeling that her presence would make things easier for Kurt. At least… she _hoped_ so.

"I'm excited to see snow again," she added, nearly at the end of her list. She'd seen snow the previous year, of course, as they'd had a few snowstorms in the city, though nothing had stuck around for _too_ long each time. This would be very different, she knew. Besides, she didn't particularly want to think about last year, anyway, so it would _almost_ be like her first time seeing snow, even though it wasn't.

"This will be completely unlike getting snow in New York City," he told her. "When Clearfield gets snow… well, especially with the storm they're talking about… It's going to be a lot. I told Sarah to be sure she stocked up on groceries _today_ so we had what we needed, in case the road don't get plowed for a few days."

Nodding excitedly, she said, "I can't wait." He chuckled, looking down at his phone, the flood of texts from Sarah seeming to have slowed as she undoubtedly went about preparing the house for their extra guest – even now, probably twelve hours in advance and so late at night. That was just how Sarah's brain worked – she was a typical mother hen.

"But mostly…" she added, her voice suddenly quieter. He turned back toward her in surprise, having thought that her list was finished. "I'm excited to be spending Christmas with you," she told him, glancing at him and then out the front window, before looking back at him. "I never thought…" She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence, but not needing to.

He nodded back at her, smiling but feeling a little bit guilty for so many mistakes at the same time. _It doesn't matter_ , he told himself. _You're both here, just focus on that._

"I know," he replied, because he hadn't thought they'd end up there together either – not there or anywhere else – not in a million years. It was beyond what he could have wished for. They both looked back at each other then, their smiles having vanished, simply looking into each other's eyes for the first time in a few minutes. There was so much emotion flowing through each other them, and between the two of them, just then… After a few minutes, however, they smiled, the slight awkwardness finally disappearing. After all, when faced with the thought of a few days together, neither of them could do anything _but_ smile.

"Okay, we really need to get going now," Kurt declared, finally shifting the car into reverse so that he could back out of the parking spot. There weren't many cars left around them, only the skeleton crew being in the building at night when there wasn't a reason for others to be there.

Exiting the garage and pulling out into the moderate traffic that marked the last Friday night before Christmas in the city, when lots of people were out and about either doing last minute shopping or celebrating, the interior of the car was suddenly much darker than it had been under the florescent lights of the parking garage. As they wove through the dark streets, Jane stared out the window at the lights around them, both the Christmas decorations and the various lights that always lit up the city at night, letting her eyes unfocus and watching the colors blur into each other. It all became a soothing blend of color that went by before her eyes, and she felt herself begin to get sleepy. Yawning again, she leaned her head back against the headrest, turned slightly towards Kurt and fighting to keep her eyes open.

Glancing over at her, Kurt chuckled. This was just another thing that reminded him of the time at the beginning, when he'd first met Jane – when she'd first _been_ Jane. She'd fallen asleep in his car twice on the first night that he'd taken her to her safe house, having been exhausted after a full twenty four hours, or maybe more, at FBI headquarters being interrogated, tested and scanned. It hadn't been the same safe house that they were headed for at that moment, but that was a small distinction. The basic idea was the same.

 _It feels like the beginning again, but this time, with the benefit of hindsight_ , he thought _._ Yes, he knew that they would make new mistakes this time around, but it seemed impossible that they'd make mistakes that were anywhere near as big as the ones they'd already made and gotten past. At least, he wanted to believe that this was true.

He forced himself to pay attention to the road, but it was hard. Every few seconds he glanced over at her, watching as she now slept peacefully in the seat beside him. It wasn't a very long drive to her safe house, so he knew she'd be waking up again very soon even if she managed to sleep the whole way. For those few minutes, however, he enjoyed seeing her look so serene. She may have still been having nightmares sometimes, but at that moment, she definitely wasn't. He was amused to see that she was actually smiling in her sleep.

When he stopped the car outside her safe house, she jerked awake almost immediately and he watched in surprise and dismay as her eyes flew open in what looked like panic. _Does she always wake up like that?_ he wondered, thinking that that would be like some sort of curse. To always wake up and feel as afraid as she looked until she got her bearings… That would be horrible.

Once again without stopping to consider what he was doing – he seemed to be doing a lot of that when it came to Jane, today – he reached his right hand toward her, laying it gently on her arm. "Hey," he said quietly, hoping that he was helping her calm down, and not making her more anxious. "You okay?"

She just nodded, her eyes darting around for a few seconds before settling on him. "We're here, I guess?" she asked, yawning again.

"Yeah," he replied, his thumb moving back and forth on her arm slowly, just as hers had done on his arm not long ago, while his hand stayed still. He sat and watched her as she calmed down, and then smiled at him.

"Okay," she said, glancing shyly at where his hand rested on her arm, and then slowly looked up at him. "We should get inside so I can get some things together."

"Right," he agreed, his eyes not moving from her face and his hand only _very_ slowly letting go of her arm. She couldn't help but smile at him, wondering just what kind of magic had happened over the last few hours that had changed things between them so radically.

Somehow she managed to turn away from his gaze in order to open her door, only to be immediately be assaulted by the biting cold wind that had already kicked up in advance of the next day's storm. It certainly hadn't been there when she'd left her house that morning. She slung her bag over her shoulder, jogging toward the door and momentarily forgetting to turn and see if Kurt was behind her, in her haste to get out of the cold.

He _was_ right behind her, of course, moving just as quickly toward her door. As she struggled to unlock the door with shaking fingers, she felt him huddle close behind her, reaching around her on both sides and leaning forward enough for his forearms to rest against the door frame. She realized that he had pressed himself _so_ close behind her because he was attempting to block the wind from her. If she'd turned around just then, they would have been just as close together as they'd been when they'd danced earlier that night, which may have seemed like an appealing idea except for the fact that she was fairly sure she was already partially frozen, so the only thing she could think about was getting inside, out of the wind.

"And _that's_ why you need to be sure to have the right gear for this weather," he said as he closed the door behind him, both of them still shivering. She nodded, slightly sensitive to the subject of _not_ having winter gear simply because of the reason that she didn't have it, but knowing that he was only stating a fact. The way the temperature was dropping out there, it was definitely going to be important for her to have more than what she had, even if it meant using something of Sarah's – or even Kurt's – for a few days and going out shopping next week, or, worst case, getting something _tonight._

That thought took her back to the last time she'd been shopping, when she'd been with Patterson and Zapata. It had been quite a while ago now… more months than she was able to remember. The thought of going out shopping for _anything_ never entered her mind anymore. After all, what was the point? As recently as that morning, she'd had nothing but an empty feeling, the complete lack of desire for any possessions, and therefore no need to even _think_ about shopping. She had the basics, after all, and that was enough.

Therefore, obviously, since she hadn't imagined going shopping at all, she certainly hadn't thought that she'd have had any company on such an outing, before today. But after everything that had happened… maybe Patterson or Zapata, or both, would go with her, or maybe it would even be _Kurt_. The thought made her smile as she danced slightly from side to side, not wanting to take off her coat.

"I'm just going to leave my coat on while I grab my stuff," she told him, slipping off her shoes and heading upstairs with her small bag. Halfway up the stairs she turned around and looked like she wanted to ask him something, but said nothing.

"Nothing fancy," Kurt replied to the question she hadn't answered. "Comfortable. Whatever you have that's _warm_ , obviously."

She couldn't help but smile, because he'd read her mind, just the way he used to. "Well that's good, because the only fancy thing I have is what I wore tonight," she told him.

"And I wouldn't mind seeing it again, but you'll feel overdressed if you wear it around my family," he grinned at her. "And besides, I don't think it counts as _warm_."

As she made a face at him, something else occurred to her. "Um, I guess I should ask when we're planning on coming back… So I know how much to bring?"

"What? You mean you don't want to go on an open-ended road trip to the middle of nowhere with someone who…" He paused then, and decided that it might be better not to try to describe himself with his less than flattering characteristics, since she'd already experienced so many of them. "Um, anyway…" he said, shaking his head and looking down after an awkward pause, during which they simply stared at each other, a slightly panicked look in both of their eyes, "that seems like a reasonable question."

Shaking her head slowly, she just waited for him to answer the question.

"The plan is to come back on the twenty-sixth at some point, which will be Monday. It's not usually a long drive, so whenever we get around to it… Though one of Sarah's texts said that they're expecting more snow out there over the next few days than the original forecast had said, so… You just never know with that kind of weather."

"So, we could get… _stranded_ out there?" Jane asked, her eyes growing wide, and for a second he was afraid that she was going to change her mind. He, on the other hand, almost _liked_ the idea of getting stranded somewhere in the snow with her…

Within seconds, he could tell from looking at her that she'd just had a thought that had amused her, because she was suddenly grinning at him. "Can you even go for that long without going to work?"

He scowled at her playfully, rolling his eyes. "For your information, I can. Now go get your stuff!" She laughed at him as she turned to walk up the rest of the stairs, and he shook his head as he watched her go. His next move was to walk back into her kitchen and check the contents of her refrigerator and cupboards, which were both shockingly empty. Of course, it was possible for a person not to have a lot of food on hand if they ordered take out frequently, but he knew that Jane wasn't one of those people.

Sighing and shaking his head at his discovery of the state of her kitchen, he could see that when they got back from Clearfield, there would have to be some grocery shopping happening immediately.

 _That's just another excuse for you to spend time with Jane_ , _you know,_ the voice in his head observed. He caught himself smiling, because the observation wasn't wrong.

 _It's going to be an interesting few days_ , he thought to himself as he walked back toward the front door to see if she was ready to go. The day was certainly ending a _lot_ better than it had started.


	9. Just Do Better

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

A/N: I've been trying to get these chapters posted so quickly, I've forgotten to mention how grateful I am to you all for reading and reviewing, but I appreciate every one of you! I have a _lot_ of things still planned for these two, so there's lots of story left to come. :)

Kurt was now standing at the bottom of the stairs of Jane's safe house, just in front of the front door. He had heard only faint noises from upstairs, probably Jane walking around, but at that moment, he heard nothing. "How's it going, Jane?" he called.

"Um…" she replied, sounding frustrated. When she didn't elaborate, he climbed the steps to the second floor without a word, pausing at the door to her bedroom and leaning against the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his chest, and couldn't help but smile at her. Jane, for her part, was standing by her bed, glaring into a duffle bag that looked like it barely had anything in it. From the look on her face, he'd have thought that the contents had personally offended her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trying not to make it obvious just how cute he found the look on her face. When she looked up at him he saw surprise, but mostly frustration, and he tried to force his face into a more serious expression, not wanting to frustrate her even more. After all, he didn't want to be on the receiving end of the glare that she was directing inside her bag.

Scowling at the duffle bag that sat in the middle of the bed once more and then sighing in exasperation, she sat down on the edge of the mattress. From where he stood, he could see a few items already inside the bag, but it didn't look like very many. Her forehead was creased as she frowned defiantly, and she leaned forward, letting her elbows rest heavily against her knees. "I don't have anything warm to pack," she finally said after several angry seconds, her head dropping to her chest and her eyes falling closed. She no longer looked angry, now she just looked sad.

Pushing himself up from the doorway where he'd been leaning, he smiled sympathetically as he walked towards her, his arms dropping to his sides. He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, leaving only a few inches between them, and moved his right hand up to gently sit at the back of her neck, his arm sitting along her spine. Feeling her take a deep breath when his arm landed on her back, he squeezed her neck gently, gradually moving farther up and then back down. He could feel her calming down before he ever said a word, and after a few minutes she sat back up and simply leaned in his direction, her head falling against his shoulder for the third time that day.

"That's easy to fix," he said soothingly, as her head landed on his shoulder once again. "Plus, luckily for both of us, it just so happens that I have a sister who loves to mother me, loves to shop for me, and she's spent the past year doing exactly that. So I now have enough clothes, warm and otherwise, for way more than the two of us. We'll just pick up the warmer stuff when we get back to my place, and you can wear that this weekend. Okay?"

He was not about to deny that he liked the idea of her wearing his clothes. _One day_ , the voice echoed somewhere in the back of his mind. _It's been one day_. _Slow down_.

 _It's been a hell of a lot longer than a day,_ he told the voice. _Besides, she was always the exception anyway._

As frustrated as she had been a few minutes before, she felt the stress melting away even faster than it had come. After all, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of wearing his clothes... It was just another one of the many things between them that was definitely _not_ supposed to happen after just one day. But who was she to argue? Because if _that_ was the only reason to say no… well then there was no reason.

 _It hasn't been one day and you know it,_ the voice in her head pointed out. _If anything, you guys move slower than glaciers, so don't start feeling like things are moving fast. Really, you're not._

"Okay," she said quietly, leaning back against his arm and letting him pull her closer, against his side. They sat that way for a minute, one that ended much too soon, when he said, "We should get going, so we both get some sleep before the drive. Who knows what kind of adventure it's going to be." She swore that she heard a grin in his voice, and when she sat up slowly and turned to look at him, she saw that she had been right. He _was_ grinning at her, his arm still around her shoulders loosely.

"What?" she asked, unable to fathom what was making him look so happy.

"No guesses?" he asked teasingly. Shaking her head, she grimaced. It was strange how she could have put up such a brave, indestructible front for the past months, since she'd been back, and now suddenly today, she felt as though she was going to crack into a million pieces at any minute. This kind of emotion… it was _exhausting_.

"I wasn't really looking forward to this weekend. To Christmas as a whole, yes. To spending time with Sarah and Sawyer, absolutely. But to going back to Clearfield…?" His face became serious then, and he focused on a spot on the wall behind Jane as his mind returned to the prospect of going to his childhood home for the weekend. Even though he knew that Sarah thought it was important for him to say goodbye to his childhood demons, he felt as though he'd been doing just fine simply not confronting them all these years.

 _This is what you call 'doing fine?'_ the voice in his head asked mockingly. _Please at least give yourself the courtesy of admitting that you haven't been doing fine. After all, look at your life. Until Jane came along, everything you did – every single thing – was because of what happened to Taylor twenty-five years ago. That's not exactly the picture of 'doing fine.'_

 _Okay,_ he admitted to himself, _maybe I'm not doing fine. But I've gone twenty-five years without facing them, and I don't see why I need to do it now._

He swore he heard his inner voice sigh pityingly, and then it said, _So you don't have to have their company for the rest of your_ _ **life**_ _, idiot._

"I've been dreading going back there. I know that Sarah thinks it will help, and after everything I've put her through over the years, she deserves for me not to fight her on it. So I gave in to this weird request of hers. But I really, really didn't want to go." Jane just nodded, interested in how he suddenly seemed to be the one pouring out _his_ feelings to _her._ They'd suddenly switched roles, it seemed.

"And it's weird, maybe, but now thinking about going there with you," he finally focused on her again, meeting her eyes. "I don't know… I don't mind the idea. In some ways it feels…" He looked down in front of him and blinked several times, then once again looked back up at her. "It feels like that's how I _can_ get the closure that Sarah thinks I can find."

"Because of… me?" she asked in surprise. "But… I've never even been there before…"

With a rush of affection for her, he smiled once again and just how much she underestimated her effect on him. Shaking his head, he replied, "I know, but that doesn't matter. I meant what I said… that day… on your voicemail…" Swallowing hard, he looked away, trying to remember his exact words. "That… when things happen to me, in my life... you're the first person I think about. And you always have been… as long as I've known you." He paused, knowing that it was probably a lot to take in, especially for Jane, who, sadly, seemed to think so little of herself. "I tried to do it without you, but… I discovered that it just doesn't really work. It _never_ did, I just hadn't realized it yet."

When he looked back at her, her face was filled with confusion again. "It?" she asked quietly.

 _Come on, Jane,_ he thought. _You have to get it through your head how much you mean to me._

 _Well then, do a better job of telling her – and better yet, showing her – than you did before today, and maybe she will,_ the voice replied. He knew that he deserved that, but it still stung a little.

"Me," he replied simply. "My life." She returned the smile shyly, shaking her head, about to protest once again, but he was faster. "I mean it," he said sincerely, looking into her eyes.

It didn't seem possible, but when she looked at him, she couldn't help but feel like he was being sincere about what he was saying. She knew that he wasn't a person to just say something for the sake of saying it, but still… Her brain just had trouble processing the concept of being that important to _anyone_. Even Kurt.

"Okay," she whispered, her eyes flicking down to her lap for a second, and then back up at him. Her smile widened then, and though she didn't want to move, she knew that she couldn't sit there all night. They had too much to do. Nodding and standing up, then turning around to look at her mostly empty bag, she frowned into it slightly.

"Okay, so," he said, suddenly all business. "You need a few basics at least. Like… underwear."

Giving him a look somewhere between a glare and a grin, she replied, "Alright, I'll be the first to admit that I never imagined when I woke up this morning that tonight you'd be asking me about my underwear… But since you did… Yes, that, at least, is packed."

Chuckling, he nodded and replied, "So, we're off to a good start, then," and went on to the next item on his mental list. "Toiletries?"

"Done."

"Socks?"

"Check."

"Pants?" he asked, then added, "Jeans, sweatpants… whatever…"

"Besides the ones I'm wearing, I have one of each." When he looked at her in surprise, she replied, just a little bit defensively, "That's all I have."

He nodded without a word, thinking that that couldn't possibly be all she'd _ever_ had, _before,_ especially knowing that she'd gone shopping with Patterson and Zapata… Which, again, meant that it was _his_ fault that she now had almost nothing. It seemed like suddenly, after months of not thinking about any of this from her perspective, that was all he could do. Once again, he felt horrible.

 _Nothing you can do to change that now,_ he reminded himself. _Just do better from now on._ He certainly did intend to.

"Okay, what about… pajamas?" he asked.

"Well…" she began, "I have some, but they're not warm… But… better than nothing?"

Again, he nodded, then took out his phone to type a message to Sarah. Less than a minute later he looked back up and told her, "Sarah has some you can borrow, if you want." Jane just nodded, a half smile on her face. While she appreciated it, she also hated the fact that she had so little of her own.

"Let's see, what else…?" Kurt mumbled. "Long sleeves?" He knew she had long sleeved shirts, because it was all she'd been wearing for months.

"Not warm _at all_ , but yes," she replied. "And one sweatshirt, and the jacket I'm wearing."

 _Her leather jacket, which is anything but warm,_ he thought. _How has she made it this far through the season with only this much?_ he wondered.

 _Easy,_ the voice in his head replied helpfully, _she's been freezing her ass off_. _And of course she doesn't complain, she probably just feels like it's what she deserves, because that's what you made her believe… and she knows it's still better than being with the CIA, so tells herself she's fine…_ The thought made him cringe. Not that she'd been spending much time outside lately, unless he was mistaken, but still…

 _Just do better from now on_ , he reminded himself. _That's all you can do._

"Okay, well, like I said, I've got plenty of warm stuff. Sweaters, fleece, a few jackets… Hats, gloves… I wouldn't have any of it if Sarah hadn't lived with me for so long, but she did, so I do. I think we're set. Right? Am I forgetting anything?"

"I don't think so," she replied, shaking her head and then pulling her bag towards her. She zipped it up carefully and was about to hoist it onto her shoulder when Kurt beat her to it.

"Oh, but I can…" she started to protest in surprise. He was looking at her in amusement, even though she was frowning at him. "Kurt, it's… what are you _doing_? It's not heavy. I can carry it." She looked both completely confused and mildly frustrated with him as well.

But Kurt just shrugged. "I know," he replied simply. "But you don't have to." She just stared at him, not knowing how to respond. He watched her as she stood and watched _him_ in confusion, shaking his head. His voice softened then, as he continued. "I know that we've been pretty horrible to you since…" He left that part unsaid, and continued, "But if you're that confused by someone doing one nice thing for you, then we… _I…_ treated you even worse than I thought." He didn't think he could express how badly he felt for the fact that she now seemed to think so little of herself, but the feeling was like a gaping hole inside him, threatening to swallow him whole.

She was already shaking her head when he finished speaking, trying to protest, but he wasn't going to hear it. "Jane, you can say whatever you want, but it's the _truth_. You shouldn't have had to feel like you're all alone, especially after what you put yourself through to protect us – to protect _me_ – and yet, that's exactly how we made you feel."

His face clouded over, and she wanted nothing more than to make him stop beating himself up. After all, what good would it do to punish himself for what had already happened, what they'd already somehow managed to get past? It wouldn't accomplish anything, of course. "But you're here _now_ ," she told him quietly. "What else can you do? We'd both like to have a time machine, but… it just doesn't work that way." She just shrugged. "Besides," she said thoughtfully, "If we changed the past, who knows if we'd have ended up _here_."

 _Just do better from now on,_ he told himself yet again.

He nodded at her reluctantly, thinking that if _she_ could get past everything that had happened, that _he_ certainly should be able to as well. Smiling at her, he just nodded, wondering how she did it. "Fair enough," he replied with a nod, "but I'm still carrying your bag."

Rolling her eyes at him, she shook her head and smiled, allowing herself to feel a still unfamiliar feeling – happiness. "Fine," she sighed dramatically, pretending to be upset, but grinning. "So let's go already." She walked towards the doorway and glanced behind her to see if he was following her, which he was.

"Don't worry, I'm right behind you," he told her, and she found herself reassured by this. Not that she didn't already _know_ that he was coming with her, since they were going to _his_ apartment, but she liked hearing it anyway.

At the bottom of the stairs, she paused by the door, taking a deep breath and thinking about how cold it was outside. She zipped up her jacket as far as it would go, then glanced around to make sure the lights were off in the rest of the house. Finally, she slowly reached for the doorknob.

"Hold on," he said, laying his hand on her arm. "Wait a second." He unzipped his jacket – a much warmer one than Jane's – partway, and unwound the scarf that he'd had around his neck, then turned towards her and began winding it around her neck instead.

"Wait, what are you—" Jane started, but Kurt cut her off.

"My jacket is much warmer than yours. I've got a few scarves back at my place," he said matter-of-factly, "so if you like that one, you can have it, or you can choose a different one. But for now, knowing how cold it is out there, I'm saying that you need to stay warm, and you're wearing it."

She looked at him, feeling warm _inside_ simply from the fact that he cared enough to worry about her being cold. "I don't suppose telling you that I'm fine without it will do any good?" she asked half-heartedly as he finished winding the scarf around her neck, tugging at the ends with a grin and using them to pull her just a little bit closer as he hung onto them.

"Nope," he agreed, smiling back at her. "So don't bother." She shook her head slightly, not knowing what else to say. Then, as she stood and watched, he pulled a pair of black knit gloves out of his pockets, handing them to her. "And you can keep those, too," he told her, "because I think there's ten pairs in my apartment, maybe more."

For a few seconds, she couldn't move, simply stood and stared at him. _This can't be real_ , she thought. She must have had one of those looks on her face, because he was grinning at her as if he was proud of himself, she noticed.

"Come on, put them on," he urged her. "Then we'll get out of here." Without a word, she put on the gloves, which were slightly warmed from being in his pockets.

"Are you _sure_?" she asked, overwhelmed.

"About what?" he asked her curiously. He didn't feel like he'd done anything deserving of the awe with which she was looking at him just then.

 _About what_? she thought in shock. _How could he possibly have no idea how much all this meant to her?_

"About… _all of it_ ," she replied, emotion overflowing into her voice, making it hard to get the words out. For a second she thought she was going to cry, she was simply overcome with it all.

"Of course I am, Jane," he said, again feeling badly at her complete awe over something so small, guilt rising in him again.

 _Just do better from now on,_ he told himself yet again, pulling her in for a hug without even stopping to think about it. She relaxed into him, inhaling deeply and asking herself yet again whether she was _sure_ that she wasn't dreaming.

"Alright, I keep saying let's go, and now I'm the one slowing us down," he chuckled near her ear.

"I wasn't in a rush anyway," she replied with a smile. He shook his head, leaning it against her and then suddenly forcing himself to lean back, dropping his arms from her slowly and zipping his jacket back up.

"Alright, let's get this over with," he told her. "Because it's only going to get colder." Her eyes widened slightly at the thought, and then she nodded, reaching for the doorknob again, ready with her keys in her gloved hand so that she could lock the door quickly.

"I'm going to make a run for the car, so I can start getting it warmed up," he told her. Nodding, she opened the door and he dashed past her outside, toward the car, stopping only to throw Jane's bag in the backseat. By the time she'd locked the door – noticing that it was _much_ easier to do so with gloves on to fight the chill in the air – and made her way to the car, the doors were unlocked and Kurt had started the engine, though the heat hadn't quite kicked in yet.

The air inside the car didn't have the same bite, but it was still definitely not _warm_. Smiling at him, she pushed her keys back into her pocket, then rubbed her hands together. Kurt turned the heat up as high as it could go, and they both held their hands up in front of the vents, waiting for it to heat up. In less than a minute, Jane also noticed a strange sensation somewhere around her. It was warm, but a little bit unsettling at the same time…

"What… ummm…" she said nervously, looking around. Kurt chuckled quietly, which only made her immediately look up at him, perplexed.

"Heated seats," he said, "Is it too much?"

Understanding dawned on her, and she nodded. "Yeah, a little bit…" He hit a button with a picture that vaguely resembled a chair on it on the console in front of them, and she saw one of two yellow lights go out.

"Okay, give it a minute and see if that's better," he told her.

"Thanks," she replied in relief.

The drive back to his apartment didn't take long, and before she knew it, it was time to brave the cold again. They dashed for the door, and by the time they made it inside, both of them were once again wishing that they were dressed more warmly – but at least they'd made it back inside. It had definitely not been this cold that morning when they'd gotten dressed.

Walking through the lobby, Jane had a sense of déjà vu. Of course, she _knew_ that she'd been there before, more than once, so maybe déjà vu wasn't the right term for it. In any case, it had been long enough since she'd been there that it was strange to be back. It was all just as she remembered it, which was both comforting and slightly uncomfortable at the same time. After all, so much had happened to her since the last time she'd set foot inside his apartment… so how did this place look exactly the same?

Halfway through the lobby she stopped, memories suddenly bombarding her. The last time she'd been there – had it been that game night when she was in the middle of the mess with Oscar…? She tried to remember… And then suddenly she saw flashes of all the things that had come after that… She saw Kurt, arresting her all over again, even though it hadn't even happened at _his_ apartment, but at _hers_ – or, the one that had been hers at the time… after that, she wasn't even sure what she was seeing, because her senses were simply overloaded.

Kurt had been walking close beside her, still moving quickly after being outside in the cold, so he was already a few steps past her when he realized that she had stopped.

Turning around, he looked confused for a second, and then seeing her stricken expression, he realized that something was wrong. "Jane?" he asked, walking back to where she stood, growing more concerned with each step. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, standing in front of her and trying to make eye contact. She stood still and looked down, taking deep breaths, appearing to be lost in her own thoughts – and not thoughts that she was happy to be having, that much was clear.

"Hey," he said gently, laying both of his hands on her arms, just above her elbows, and still trying to get her to look at him. "Are you okay?"

She didn't hear him at first, still stuck inside the memories that were assaulting her from every direction at once, but she began to feel the pressure of his hands on her arms, and it pulled her slowly out of her thoughts. Gradually, she realized that she was not inside any of those memories, as she had thought, and looked up to find Kurt studying her face, worry written across his. Blinking and looking at him with relief, she gulped a deep breath and leaned forward, letting herself simply fall against him. Her eyes were already squeezed tightly closed before her head made contact with his collarbone, at which point he could no longer see her face.

This whole letting her guard down was a scary thing, and certainly not easy. To her dismay, now that she was no longer pushing all of her feelings down so hard inside her and denying their existence, it was as if almost anything could trigger a wave of emotions that could overwhelm her in seconds.

 _You were long overdue for a breakdown,_ she told herself. _You're just making up for lost time._

 _Fantastic,_ she thought sarcastically.

His arms went around her as soon as he saw her leaning forward. Obviously, something had set her off… so what was it? "Hey," he said soothingly, giving up on getting her to answer for the moment, and simply working on getting her out of her own head. She was shaking, he noticed, and he put one hand on her back and one on the back of her head, as he had earlier, his fingers in her hair, moving them slowly. She was hugging him tightly, as if she was afraid that he was going to try to get away, so he tried to project the calmest, most soothing version of himself that he could.

"Ssshhhh," he said into her ear, as he had done on other occasions when she'd been upset. It was a few minutes before her breathing became less ragged and he could no longer feel her shaking. She leaned back and then, slightly awkwardly, took a step backwards, standing unsteadily on her own, and swiped at her tear-stained cheeks as she looked at the ground.

"Sorry," she mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Jane," he said in the same low voice that was always so effective at calming her down. He waited until she looked up at him once again before he spoke, and less than a minute later, her curiosity got the best of her. He didn't say anything else. Instead, his eyes asked the question for him, and hers answered with a heartbreaking look.

 _Even knowing what she's been through,_ he thought, _it's so easy to forget how badly scarred she is emotionally from everything. She pulls herself together like a completely functional person most of the time, so it's easy to forget just how badly she's hurting._

 _She's probably doing that on purpose,_ he realized, _and she probably has been for a long time now. What does it say about you that you just noticed now?_

He felt the guilt beginning to creep in again, and he tried to keep his face from showing it. This was not the time for him to think about himself, after all. There was no time for a pity party. This was the time for him to think about _her._

 _Just do better from now on_ , he told himself. It seemed to have become his mantra in a very short time.

Slowly, he reached toward her and wrapped the arm that did not have her duffle bag over it around her shoulders, turning and propelling them both toward the elevators. He felt her arm slowly move along his lower back, even through his jacket, and he tugged her just a little tighter. He simply could not reconcile what he knew – that if he had acted differently, she would not have been tortured by the CIA – with what he felt – that he would move heaven and Earth to keep her safe. Yes, he felt it _now,_ but it was too little, too late. He _had_ let them take her, and he _hadn't_ done enough to save her. She'd had to escape on her own. It was a wonder that she let herself be near him at all.

 _Which is why it has taken so long for it to happen,_ the voice in his head reminded him. _You didn't just suddenly end up here. It's been a while building up to this. Just keep doing what you've been doing. Nothing you can do about the past now._

He knew that he couldn't let himself go down this path with his thoughts, because it only led to dark places. Places he didn't want to go, especially not with Jane right there beside him, needing him to be clearheaded. Besides, this was Christmas weekend, and somehow – though he still didn't quite understand how he'd gotten so lucky – he was going to be spending the entire thing with Jane. Sure, he had to go and say goodbye to the ghosts of his past, but suddenly it didn't seem as daunting, knowing that he wouldn't be doing it alone.

In the elevator, he kept his arm around her shoulders, unwilling to let her go unless that was what she wanted. And judging from the way she was leaning into him, her arm still wound tightly around his lower back, that was _not_ what she wanted. This suited him perfectly fine. In this way, they maneuvered themselves as one unit to his door, where he took out his keys from his jacket pocket and unlocked it.

When he opened the door to reveal his apartment, for some reason Jane was surprised to find looked exactly the way it had the last time she'd been there, aside from the small differences that went along with his sister and nephew no longer living with him. She was also surprised to find that being in his apartment didn't bother her, despite what had just happened in the lobby.

Once they were inside, Kurt turned to close the door and then hesitantly dropped his arm from her shoulders so that they could take off their jackets.

Even without their jackets, the apartment felt warm and toasty after the freezing winds outside, and the lights cast a warm glow around the room, just as she remembered it always having. Kurt had hung his jacket up in the closet, and as Jane finished slowly pulling hers off as well, he simply lifted it out of her fingers, hanging it up beside his before she could protest.

"Thanks," she mumbled, slowly walking further into the room. She still couldn't get over how it all looked the same after all this time. How could it? Everything about _her_ had been turned upside down, in all the worst possible ways. She felt almost irrationally annoyed with his apartment – which she understood didn't make any sense whatsoever – but how _dare_ it remain the same while her life had been in such turmoil?

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the couch to sit down at the far left end, curling up and tucking her legs into the corner behind her. There was a soft, gray blanket that had been draped over the back couch pillows beside her, and she pulled it down, draping it over her. It was the same couch she'd sat on before, other times when she'd been there, and she didn't know whether to be comforted by the familiarity or, as she had been a minute before, angry at the inanimate object's ability _not_ to have been torn apart by the past few months, as she felt that she had been.

 _I'm losing my mind,_ she thought _. I'm really losing my mind._

 _You're not losing your mind_ , the familiar, calm voice in her head said. _You're processing. Big difference. Just give it a minute._

Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, she tried to do just that… to give all of it a minute. She'd almost forgotten how to calm herself down without simply pushing her feelings down inside her and telling herself they didn't exist. She'd been doing that for so long, she had to make a conscious effort _not_ to do that. This was definitely going to take some practice.

She was sitting there, curled up in the corner, when he walked over and sat down beside her, leaving a little bit of space between them, but less than a foot. When she felt the couch shift beside her, she opened her eyes and turned towards him. She did her best to smile as he handed her a mug with steam rising from it, which she took gratefully. Her smile was weak, however, and it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Thanks," she said as she curled her hands around the cup, thinking how good the warmth felt.

"You're welcome," he said, picking up another cup from the coffee table in front of them. "Though I should tell you, it's decaf. Sorry, but I do want you to sleep at least a little bit tonight."

"Haha," she said, taking a small sip to check the temperature. It was perfect, and she realized that he still remembered what she liked in her coffee. This made her smile for real, and she couldn't help but feel silly that something so small could make her feel so happy.

 _But then again, what do I have in my life besides little things?_ she asked herself, her smile dimming slightly. Still, she supposed that she had to take the good where she could find it, and she tried not to think too hard about what it said about her life. After all, it could be _so_ much worse. She could have been sitting at home on her own couch, alone, right now. Instead, she was here, with him. She could have still been with… _No, I'm not going there_ , she told herself with finality.

He turned to face her on the couch, sipping his coffee, glad to be holding something warm, and glad to see Jane focusing on him, and not lost in her thoughts. He knew what it was like to be stuck inside his own head, and he also knew that she had a lot more trauma to draw her in that he did. They sat that way on the couch, defrosting, and just looking at each other for a few minutes before either of them spoke.

"Do you want to talk about what happened downstairs?" he asked her gently.

She could tell from looking at him that if she said no, she didn't want to talk about it, he would respect that and not push her. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to tell him, exactly, but she hesitated as she tried to think of what to say.

"I guess…" she began slowly, looking away from him. "Coming back here… I was just overwhelmed, and once it started, it just wouldn't stop. Out of nowhere, suddenly I was just reliving everything one after another… I mean, this is the first time I've been here since… _everything_ …"

He hadn't even thought about that – the fact that the last time she'd been there, they had both been very different people. What they had each known about their own lives, their own realities, and especially, about each other, had been very different as well. It was hard to conceive of now, and he didn't like to – didn't like to think about the way so many things had gone so very wrong all at once.

Nodding slowly, he took another sip of his coffee while he thought about what she'd said. He watched her, wondering if she was going to continue.

"I don't know why it happened downstairs," she added in a small voice, "and not when I walked in _here_ …" Only then did she look at him, looking confused and sad, maybe even a little scared.

She had a very good point, one that he'd never stopped to consider. By bringing her back here, he'd triggered a lot of things she obviously didn't want to remember. It had simply never occurred to him, but now that it did, he felt like an insensitive jerk.

His right elbow was propped up on the cushion on the back of the couch, and he shifted his coffee cup into his left hand, then let his elbow fall down along the back of the couch toward her, his fingertips just reaching her shoulder, resting on it gently.

"I'm sorry, Jane, I'd forgotten that you hadn't been here since… everything happened," he said quietly, feeling terrible.

She shook her head immediately. "No, I'd forgotten, too," she replied, scooting to her left just slightly, towards him, so that his hand rested farther up onto her shoulder. Not needing more encouragement than that, his fingers started moving slowly over the fabric of her shirt that covered her shoulder as she sipped her coffee. Slowly but surely, she smiled.

"Is it… weird? To be back here?" he asked, slightly concerned. The last thing she needed after everything she'd been through was something else that made her uncomfortable, especially because of him, _again_.

 _He looks so worried,_ she thought as she looked at him, the smile growing on her face at just the thought that he was so concerned about her – and not for the reasons that she had once assumed – because she was important for the mission of taking down Sandstorm. When the FBI had brought her back with them – dragged her back, as she'd considered it then, she had been convinced that this was the only reason why they'd shown any concern for her at all – which hadn't been much. But looking back, she doubted that that was _all_ it had been, even then… Even if it _had_ , she knew for sure that that wasn't the case anymore, and that was enough. After all, it _had_ to be enough.

Shaking her head, she shifted a little closer to him still, eliminating almost all of the space, so that his fingertips now reached the cushion slightly past the middle of her back. He let his fingers rest against the fabric that covered her back, waiting for her to speak.

"It _was_ weird when you opened the door, and then for the first few seconds, but after that… I don't know. It just wasn't anymore. It's… like I remember it, but… better." He smiled, and he was going to tell her that he was glad, but she started speaking again.

"The thing that was weird was when I sat down here, and I was thinking… how much the same it all looked. And it was nice that it was so familiar… but then I felt so…" she inhaled slowly, trying to find the words, and exhaled just as slowly. "I felt so _angry_ , that with all of the horrible things that had happened in the time since I was last here, and yet everything here looked the same." She sighed heavily, frustrated.

"And I know that it doesn't make any sense, but I just…" she started, but stopped, shaking her head and sighing yet again, looking down at her lap.

"It makes sense," he told her quietly. "I feel that way sometimes, mostly at work, watching the agents on other teams. I don't really know them, so it's not fair of me, because I'm sure that there are plenty of things that they deal with that I don't know about, but…" He paused, looking at her, but thinking of the best way to say what he was trying to say. "You get angry that everything else, everyone else seems to have just continued on with their lives, stayed the same, while you endured something horrible… And I can't even imagine, in your place—" he broke off, shaking his head.

She nodded, thinking that he had summarized it pretty well. "And that's hard, too, because you know that those other people – or, your couch, as I was directing my anger and frustration at–" At that she looked down and smiled, knowing that she sounded ridiculous, but that at the same time, that he would understand. "You know that it wasn't _their_ fault that you went through this horrible thing that they didn't… They were just living their lives… or, you know, being a couch."

At that, she felt the sensation of his fingers moving slowly on her back, up to her shoulder and squeezing slightly. Looking back at him, suddenly needing to see in his face that he understood what she was saying, she saw the look that seemed to surprise her every time – because how had she possibly deserved to see it again after everything she'd done to him? It was the look that had melted her heart from the beginning, and for a second, it took her breath away.

But she wasn't done talking, so, bolstered by the encouragement in his eyes, she continued. "And yet… why do they get to come through that same period of time unscathed? Perfectly fine, as far as you can tell, anyway? It's just… It's not _fair._ And I know I sound like a whiny four year old saying that, but…" She stopped, having finally gotten to the end of her train of thought.

"But you're not wrong, Jane," he told her quietly. "And what has happened to you, all of it, from the very beginning of a very young Remi, none of it was fair. A lot _less_ fair that what happens to most people. Unfortunately, we can't undo it. The best we can do is to try to tip the balance." When she looked back at him, it was obvious that she didn't understand what he meant. Smiling at her warmly, he added, "The things that have happened in your life have been pretty…"

He searched for the right word. How exactly did you sum up Jane's life in one word? "…unthinkable," he said finally. "It's going to take a while to balance it all out, but I think it's possible. Now you just need a whole lot of things to go _right_ , for a change. It doesn't erase what's happened in the past… we can't do that."

She was already nodding. _No, of course we can't_ , she thought. "I know," she said aloud.

"Though if I could, I'd do it in a second. No matter what it took." Looking into his eyes just then, she could see that he meant it.

"Me, too," she said, smiling sadly, then looking down at her hands.

They sat that way for a long, quiet minute, until she felt him squeezing her shoulder once again, at which point she finally scooted the rest of the way toward him and leaned the side of her head against his chest, a now empty coffee cup between her restless hands. His right hand, which had been on her shoulder, wrapped the rest of the way around her and pulled her closer to him, while his left hand, having already set down his own empty mug, took hers from her and put it beside the other one on the coffee table, then wrapped around her fidgeting hands.

They sat that way, close together on the couch, for a while, neither one speaking, both lost in their thoughts. _Is it possible,_ she wondered, _for things to actually go right?_ Based on past experience, she would have said no… And yet, based on where she was at that second, she would have said the opposite. She felt her eyelids growing heavy, and she allowed her eyes to close. It had been a long time since she'd felt that secure… _Actually_ , she thought fleetingly, _I don't think I ever have…_

 _Not that I can remember, anyway._


	10. Moonlight

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

She felt herself falling asleep sitting up on the couch, leaning against Kurt, and that was totally okay with her. Never mind the fact that it felt very strange to be falling asleep sitting up. Then, when she heard his voice in her ear what felt like seconds later, she couldn't help but smile. It wasn't so much what he was saying – because really, he was saying that they needed to get up off of the couch – just more than he had leaned close to her to say it, and that he remained so close when he had finished saying it.

"We need to add some warm clothes to your bag, and I need to pack some of my own things," he murmured next. Once again, however, he made no attempt to move, and neither did she.

"Mmmm-hmmm," she replied, perfectly happy with the fact that he had yet to try to let go of her. She would be more than okay with it if they stayed right where they were for the rest of the night, even though realistically, she knew that they would be sore if they fell asleep that way.

"Or maybe that can wait til morning. We can get up early and pull things together, then get on the road," he said quietly, thinking out loud. That certainly sounded like a good plan at the moment.

"Okay," she replied, without moving or opening her eyes. Of course, she would have agreed to just about anything just then if it meant that she didn't have to move.

Kurt chuckled at her, at the two of them. He knew she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "However, we can't sleep like this. We need to get up." It didn't surprise him when she leaned into him just a little harder in protest, frowning stubbornly. Chuckling, he added, "It does seem perfect, but our backs won't forgive us if we try to sleep like this. Besides, we should probably brush our teeth, things like that…"

He felt her sigh in defeat, and he couldn't help but smile. Had it really only been this morning that he'd felt so distant from her, that he'd wondered if things between them would ever stop feeling so awkward? It seemed impossible, based on where he was now, sitting on his couch with his arms securely around her, feeling exactly the opposite of awkward.

He allowed them another minute, and then forced himself to slowly let go – which took all of his willpower. "Come on, let's get up," he said. As much as she wanted to simply just refuse, logically she knew that he was right. Sighing in resignation, she allowed him to pull her to her feet along with him, then, once he had made sure she was steady enough to stand up on her own, he let go of her. She watched him as he walked toward the kitchen with the two coffee cups, taking them to the sink to rinse them out.

While he did that, she walked to her bag, still sitting by the front door, and took out her pajamas and her toothbrush, then ducked into the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. When she emerged a few minutes later, she found the main room of the apartment quiet and dark, all of the lights having been turned out except for those that illuminated a tiny, two foot tall Christmas tree that sat on an end table across the room. She hadn't even noticed it before.

Replacing her clothes and her toothbrush in her bag, and taking out her only sweatshirt to put over her pajamas for extra warmth against the chilly December air, even inside his apartment, she left her bag sitting where it was. Standing in the entry awkwardly, she wondered what she should do. Go back to the couch? Go to the room that had once been Sarah and Sawyer's? Kurt's door was only half closed, and the soft light in his room filtered out from around it. Feeling self-conscious but doing it anyway, she walked slowly towards the open door, all the while wondering if doing so was too… _what?_ She didn't even know. After all, she had no frame of reference for any of it. She was simply drawn toward the room where she knew that he was.

Walking slowly, unsurely, she reached his door, through which she could see him standing in front of his dresser. He was now dressed in blue and grey plaid pajama pants and a grey FBI sweatshirt. He was looking through one of the middle drawers, moving clothes aside and then looking below them, clearly looking for something specific. Not sure what to say, she leaned against the doorframe, just as he'd done at the door to her bedroom back at her safe house, crossing her arms and feeling completely out of place.

She watched as he pulled out a sweater and then half-turned, appearing to look at it appraisingly in the light, and then turned around the rest of the way and laid it on the bed. Standing up again, he looked up and saw her watching him, and smiled.

"I guess I got a second wind," he said. "I was looking through my things for the warmest ones." She nodded, looking between the sweater and him. "The bed in Sarah's old room is made up if you're ready to crash," he told her, but she shook her head.

"Not yet, unless…" she replied, thinking that as tired as she was, she'd rather hang out with him. After all, she spent enough time alone, and all that awaited her when she pretended to sleep were her thoughts. So unless he'd prefer that she didn't, she would much rather hang out in his room.

Smiling at her and nodding, he said, "Well, have a seat then, if you want." There was nowhere in the room to sit except on the bed, but since he wasn't actually sitting on it himself, just walking back and forth beside it, she felt a _little_ less awkward about doing so. Settling herself on the opposite side from where he was laying out clothes in two distinct piles, she watched him quietly. Next, he took a duffle bag out of the bottom of his closet, setting it on the bed and transferring one of the piles of clothes into it, then stood and appeared to be running through a mental checklist.

A chill ran down her spine, and she pulled her thin sweatshirt tighter around her, not giving her actions a second thought. This happened to her all the time at her safe house, too, but she was fine. After all, after what she'd been through, who cared if she was a little bit cold? It was winter. People were supposed to be cold in winter.

Suddenly she felt his eyes focusing on her, and she glanced up to find him looking hard at her. Before she knew it, he'd turned around to his dresser again and had pulled open the second drawer, taking out a dark blue sweatshirt which he then turned around and passed to her. "Here," he said, "this one's probably a lot warmer than the one you're wearing. "One of the first things that Sarah bought me after she and Sawyer moved in." She was surprised to find that the sweatshirt was made of what was perhaps the softest fabric she'd ever felt before, inside and out. The letters NYC were stitched on in large dark gray letters, using an even darker gray thread. For a few seconds she just stared at it in her hands, in disbelief that he'd just handed it to her.

 _It's just a sweatshirt, not a marriage proposal,_ the voice in her head said, almost sounding bored. But it wasn't just a sweatshirt, not to Jane. It was _his_ , and she got to wear it. Why did she like that idea so much?

She unzipped and took off the thin sweatshirt she was wearing quickly, both because she felt strangely exposed without it, despite the thin, black long sleeved shirt she wore underneath it, and also because of the cold, slipping his blue one over her head and pulling it down around her. It was much too big, of course, but between the softness of it and the lingering scent of him, when she pulled it down around her, she swore that she had never before worn something that she loved so much.

"Thanks, it's perfect," she said happily, smiling broadly at him.

He nodded, smiling the Just for Jane smile yet again, and she swore she felt her heart beat a little faster, despite her insistence that it should stop doing so. Her heart was apparently not listening to her.

"It looks good on you. Better on you than on me," he told her with a wink.

She just rolled her eyes at him, deciding to change the subject. "Got everything?" she asked.

"I think…" he began slowly, clearly still going through his list, "No, wait… Don't want to forget those." Turning back to his dresser, he opened one of the small top drawers, and then the other, taking out first socks, then what may have been… judging from the drawer's location, she imagined that they were boxers, and her eyes darted around the room quickly, slightly embarrassed to be watching him pack _everything._

When he glanced up at her, her face was slightly flushed and she was looking around his room, anywhere but at him. Setting everything into his bag and unable to think of anything he was missing, he smiled at how cute she looked, sitting there flustered. "I'll be right back," he said, and she looked up as he walked out of the room. She heard the bathroom door close, and she looked around once again. It was just as she would expect it to look, really. Very neat, no extra decorative touches, everything simple and organized and utilitarian. Very… Kurt. He obviously hadn't let Sarah have her way in here.

Then in what seemed like no time at all, he was back, carrying her bag on his shoulder, which he set down on the other side of the bed, beside his own bag. Picking up a sweater from the top of the remaining pile, he asked, "You okay with this one?"

"Of course," she replied. "Anything is fine… I just…" She trailed off, not even sure what she was trying to say. She still felt a little funny about needing to borrow clothes from him, though she wasn't going to lie… she didn't hate the idea one bit.

He smiled back at her reassuringly as he set several more things in her bag. Not even looking hard enough to notice what those things were, she was focused simply on him. Kurt, on the other hand, was focused on trying to assure her that none of this was a big deal. "Obviously, it should all be more than big enough, since you're smaller than me," he said, ignoring the fact that she was also _much_ skinnier than she should have been, and that her _own_ clothes were largely loose on her. They would work on that one.

She nodded, smiling gratefully. Once again, she was hit by just how happy she was not to be spending this weekend by herself in her safe house. "I really appreciate all this, you know… if I didn't say it before," she told him quietly. " _Not_ just the clothes… Everything."

Kurt stopped what he was doing and looked at her, and once again he smiled at her warmly. "There's nothing that could have made me happier than the way today has gone," he told her sincerely, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Though she was smiling, she felt her face twitching slightly, and hoped that she wasn't going to cry against her will from sheer happiness. It had certainly never happened before, but then again, it wasn't as though happiness was exactly a state in which she'd found herself too many times. Just then, however, happy tears seemed like a very distinct possibility.

Wanting to reply and return the sentiment, she was surprised to find that she couldn't – because no words would come out. She was simply overcome with a rush of emotion and had to settle for nodding, looking directly at him and biting her lip to keep herself in check. Even so, her eyes were suspiciously a little bit moist at the corners.

Watching her appear to tear up slightly, he was both happy and concerned at the same time. He knew that they were happy tears, but after everything she'd been through, he wanted to prevent _any_ of her tears. Setting the other things that he'd pulled out for her inside her bag, he opened each of his drawers to look for anything he might have missed, one at a time, before closing each of them again and nodding with satisfaction.

"I think we're set," he said, zipping up both bags and picking them up, then walking out of the room with one in each hand. She imagined that he was putting them near the door for the next morning. She was still sitting there, feeling increasingly awkward, when he walked back in, picked up a remote control from his dresser and pointed it at the small TV that sat opposite the bed. The picture came to life, along with the sound of some commercial for a movie that was coming on later, as he walked back to the switch on the wall by the door. He turned off the light, then walked to the opposite side of the bed and pulled down the blankets, settling in and propping the pillow against the headboard before leaning against it. Feeling increasingly like she shouldn't be there, she watched as he flipped through the channels until he found one of the many late night comedians, and then finally set the remote down beside him.

"I know I should just go to sleep, since I was the one who wanted to leave early," he said with a sheepish grin, "but this guy's so funny."

Jane just shrugged, having no idea who the guy on the TV was, and suddenly feeling very awkward sitting on Kurt's bed, even more so now because he'd just climbed under the covers. "I should probably…" she said nervously, starting to get up.

Kurt just shrugged, his face giving no indication that her presence bothered him. "You can hang out and watch, if you want to," he told her, looking into her eyes sincerely.

 _You can fall asleep right there if you want to,_ he said in his head. He _knew_ that it wasn't what was supposed to happen, but damn, would it have been nice…

But Jane yawned just then, and used that as an excuse to stand all the way up.

"The bed in Sarah's old room is guest-ready, if you want it," he told her, "but I'm not kicking you out, I swear." The look on her face was rapidly being filled with panic, and he wondered if she'd taken what he'd just said the wrong way. He had really meant nothing by it whatsoever. If she wanted to sit and watch TV with him, that was fine. If she wanted to go to sleep in Sarah's room, that was fine too. He held no allusions about her wanting to sleep right next to him, because _of course_ she wouldn't want that, but it would have been more than fine with him. He wished there was something he could do to calm her down, but he was at a loss. "Jane?"

Forcing a smile onto her face to try to hide the sudden surge of discomfort that she felt just from being in that room at that moment, she shook her head. "No, you… you were right, earlier… I do need to try to get some sleep. It's been a long day… Or a _lot_ of long days…"

The glow in the room was so warm and comforting, and there was honestly nothing that she wanted to do more than just to lay down right where she'd just been sitting. She felt so safe with Kurt… never mind that she was also currently anxious as hell… but that wasn't because of _him_. Or… not exactly. That was her mind, she half knew, that was telling her that she needed to get out of the room. Because this… it was just wrong. That morning they had barely been on speaking terms, so she couldn't end the day… sleeping in his bed, no matter how innocently. All the extenuating circumstances in the world didn't matter, that was simply not okay.

 _Why?_ she asked herself.

 _Shut up_ , she replied. _It's just… not._

She could feel her anxiety level continuing to rise, and this feeling only made her more anxious. It was a spiral, and she needed to get out of it.

Though it was clear from her expression that she didn't want to go, she continued to stand awkwardly and insist that she needed to. He thought that it was interesting that she used the excuse of sleep, now knowing that she was still having nightmares. If he recalled correctly, when she'd been having nightmares before, she'd tried to avoid sleep at all costs. He wondered if sleep was simply the excuse she was using to try to get herself out of the room. The question that raised was whether she really felt _that_ uncomfortable… and why?

He looked at her skeptically, but didn't push her. No matter what it took, he was going to prove to her that he could be trusted. As tough as she was, she just seemed so fragile to him just now… even more so than she used to be… This made sense of course, given everything that she'd been through. But then, not surprisingly, she was also that much more skittish because of it.

Despite how strange the whole day had been, he couldn't help but think about the fact that if she'd fallen asleep right there on the other side of his bed, he would have felt better because he could have seen with his own eyes that she was safe. But that was crazy, he knew, and he reminded himself of that. There was no way she'd have allowed it.

They'd seemed to have fallen back into a good rhythm in the past few hours… Things between them felt almost just like they had near the beginning, before the lies had started. When it came down to it, he didn't know what the right thing to do to make her feel better, less anxious, _was_. He knew he'd been hovering protectively, and he figured that too much of that was bound to drive her crazy, knowing her as he thought he did. This time, he decided, he'd give her a little space, promising himself that he'd go and check on her in a little while.

And he would have done just that, except that he was more tired than he'd thought he was when he'd gotten into bed, and he ended up falling asleep with the TV on. As Jane had said, after all, it had been a long day. Two hours later, he woke up and turned off the TV, then looked at the clock and groaned. 1:35am.

Realizing that he hadn't yet checked on Jane, he pushed himself out of bed and walked quietly to the door. He knew how noises could carry in his apartment when it was silent, so he opened his bedroom door without a sound – a trick that Sarah had never seemed to master, he remembered – and started towards the door to Sarah's old room, across the living room.

He'd only taken three steps, however, when he saw Jane in the dim light of his pathetic, two foot tall Christmas tree. She was laying on the couch, under the throw blanket she had covered herself with earlier, and miraculously, she was asleep. It didn't look like she was sleeping peacefully, however, because there was a frown on her face.

 _It doesn't necessarily mean anything_ , he told himself, but he still felt uneasy. No, most people didn't smile in their sleep, anyway. The important thing was that she was asleep.

Turning around without a sound, he tiptoed back to bed, relieved that she'd at least managed to fall asleep, even though she'd ended up on the couch. _Why had she decided to sleep there?_ he wondered. _Maybe because it was more familiar?_ That was the only reason he could think of that made sense with what he knew about Jane. He would ask her in the morning.

It didn't take long before he was drifting off again, now that his room was both dark _and_ quiet. However, it seemed that Kurt was simply not meant to have a good night of sleep that night, because what felt like five minutes later, he sat straight upright in bed. _What's wrong?_ he asked himself. _Why am I even awake?_ He didn't really have trouble sleeping most nights, but he was a light sleeper, and had been for years. He figured that it was just an occupational hazard, since he always needed to be alert and ready. But what had woken him up?

 _What is it this time?_ he wondered. Even when he woke up at night, he wasn't usually _this_ awake, this fast… The clock said it was 3:46 am, barely more than two hours since the last time he'd woken up. He was going to be hurting in the morning. Since he was up, he decided to get up and check on Jane again. Because she was sleeping in the living room, he could just peek out his door and make sure she was sleeping peacefully, and didn't have to feel weird about peering into the guest room… It was a very fine distinction, he knew, but a distinction nonetheless, and he'd sleep easier knowing that she was alright.

When he cracked the door open, however, what he saw was not what he expected. There on the couch, with moonlight spilling through the blinds behind her, was Jane – very much _not_ sleeping. In fact, she was sitting up, leaning forward with her elbows leaning heavily against her knees, her head bent forward and resting in her hands so that he couldn't see her face. He could hear her breathing hard, as if she couldn't quite catch her breath, and in a few seconds he was already across the room. He stopped only a few feet away from her, not wanting to startle her by approaching too fast.

"Jane?" he said her name as a question, hesitantly, and then walked the last few steps toward her slowly. He assumed that she had had a nightmare. Instead of sitting down beside her on the couch, he knelt down on the floor in front of her, attempting to find an angle at which he'd be able to make eye contact. However, her head was still bent forward, almost against her chest, and now that he was closer, he could hear that she was not only breathing hard, but that she was crying as well. She was crying so hard, in fact, that she almost wasn't making a sound. Just like that, he felt the now familiar ache in his chest for her and for everything that she continued to go through, so much of it because of his own stupidity.

However, this was not the time to fall victim to his own guilt. He wouldn't be any help to her that way. No, if he was going to be of any use to her at all, he needed to think clearly, which meant he had no time to think about how badly he had messed up. He could do that later.

 _Just do better from now on,_ he reminded himself. _Starting right now._

Hoping that he was guessing right at the best way to get through to her, he leaned closer to her, though still not touching her, and said her name again. "Jane," he whispered. "It's okay. You're safe." She gave no indication that she could hear him, but he wasn't deterred. Slowly and carefully, the same way he had done earlier, he laid his hands on her arms, just above her elbows. He held on very lightly at first, and then slowly increased the pressure – not to squeeze her arms, simply to get her attention, to get her to come back from wherever she was just then.

Watching her carefully, he saw her brow crease as if she was concentrating on something, and took it as a good sign. He whispered the same words to her again, noticing that she was slowly beginning to catch her breath. She was still crying, though not as hard. He was relieved when she slowly lifted her head to look at him, but the emotion in her eyes was painful. He didn't see them for long before she squeezed them shut again, and a new round of sobbing began.

That was his limit. He was a highly trained FBI agent who had, in the past, withstood physical torture at the hands of criminals that he had pursued, when things had gone badly – though nowhere near as horrible as what had been done to Jane by the CIA, of course – but the one thing in the world that could break him was seeing the woman in front of him cry. It was worse than anything else that could ever have been done to him.

Without further hesitation, he leaned forward, sitting up taller on his knees so that he could reach her better, and put his arms all the way around her tightly once again. In seconds, her face landed against his left shoulder, and he quickly felt her tears soaking his t-shirt. Her arms were slower to follow, but they also wrapped around him. He leaned forward, pulling her to him, and once again, he simply held onto her, rocking slightly. They remained this way for what felt to Kurt like a long time – far too long, of course, because any amount of time during which Jane was this distraught was _far_ too long. The clock was behind him so he didn't know how long it had been, but it didn't matter. After all, he would have stayed there as long as it was necessary to calm her down.

Eventually she did stop crying, though she continued to hang onto him. Finally allowing himself to glance back over his shoulder at the clock, he saw that it was now 4:14 am.

Turning back around towards her, he leaned his left cheek against the side of her head so that he could speak into her left ear. "Hey," he said softly, "come back in my room and lay down." He felt her tense up then, and she shook her head. He couldn't figure out what exactly her hesitation was, so that he could counteract it, because surely it wasn't _just_ the fact that it was his bedroom… Whatever the issue was, they were both exhausted and it was almost morning, so he decided that rather than spend time trying to convince her, he'd try something else.

"No? Are you sure?" he asked, and he felt her nod her head. "Okay," said soothingly. "Will you lie down on the couch?" He felt her sigh heavily against him, and he swore she pulled her arms a little bit tighter around his middle. Chuckling slightly, he tried again, wondering if she was afraid that he was going to get her to lay down and then go back to his room – as if he was going to leave her there by herself in this state. _Of course not_. "Let me rephrase that," he said with a smile. "If _I_ lie down on the couch, will you join me?"

He waited, but she didn't reply, and after a minute he began to wonder if she was going to. In order to get himself onto the couch, he was going to have to let go of her, and he wasn't sure how that was going to go over, considering how tightly she was holding onto him just then. "Let's just try that, okay?" That was when he felt her nod slightly against his shoulder, and she picked her head up for the first time in a while, her eyes finally coming up to meet his.

It was a trick of the moonlight, maybe, but he swore that her eyes were greener in that moment than they had ever been before. She looked beautiful… beautiful and exhausted and… completely and utterly defeated. He couldn't help but smile at her sadly, reaching back to tuck a loose stand of hair behind her ear. "You're going to let me get up and lay down on the couch, right there, right?" he asked, pointing the just behind where she was sitting, trying to keep him tone light. Things had already been heavy enough.

She nodded her head just a little, and her mouth appeared the form the word "Yes," though he didn't hear any sound actually come out.

He leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead, letting his hands slowly fall from her arms and feeling her hands finally loosen from around him as well. He stood up slowly out of necessity, his knees aching from kneeling on the hard floor for so long, then lowered himself onto the couch beside her, scooted himself back and swung his legs up behind her carefully. Once he'd turned on his left side and moved back against the couch cushions behind him, he said, "Okay, scoot back here."

She turned and looked at him slowly over her left shoulder, almost as if she was set on a slow motion setting, but she didn't move any farther than that. Her face was now expressionless, empty, and once again, he felt his chest ache on her behalf. Pushing himself up to sit again, he moved closer to her once more.

"Jane, come on. You don't have to sleep. Just lay down. I'm not going to let anything or anyone hurt you." The look on her face became even more pained, and he knew what she was thinking – about the CIA – and that she still couldn't quite believe him. She probably wouldn't fully trust him for a very long time. He deserved it, he knew – her distrust – but it still stung.

 _Just do better from now on_ , he reminded himself. After all, there was nothing else he _could_ do. He took a deep breath, trying to dislodge the uneasiness inside him.

He sat up all the way again, moving closer to her so that his hands could reach slowly around her waist, leaning forward so that her left shoulder leaned against his chest. As soon as he did, she turned and leaned against him, sighing with what he swore seemed like relief. He'd really expected her to be more stubborn about it, but he certainly wasn't going to complain.

Hoping that this was a good sign, he slowly moved himself back to the corner of the couch where he'd been laying, tugging her gently along with him. This time, she scooted herself willingly back, then laid down in front of him without a word when he did the same. His arms were wound around her securely, and to his surprise, she was actually letting herself lean back against him. She was still tense, he noticed, so even as the minutes ticked by without any sound from her, he could tell that she was still awake, despite the fact that he couldn't see her face. He didn't like that part at all – either one, actually – the tension, or the fact that he couldn't see her face.

"Jane," he whispered quietly. "Was it a nightmare?" Her head nodded yes, but she said nothing. "Do you want to talk about it?" This time he watched as the back of her head shook back and forth. _No_. "Okay," he said soothingly. Then, after a few minutes of perfect silence, during which he agonized over what he could do for her, he whispered, "Are you okay?"

She shifted then, moving slowly until she was almost on her back, looking at him over her right shoulder. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible and her head shaking slowly.

"What can I do?" he asked, looking into her eyes and feeling an increasing sense of desperation. There had to be _something_ he could do… he simply couldn't accept the idea that he couldn't help her. He'd stood by helplessly once before when he should have taken action, and she had suffered irreparable damage because of it. He would never let that happen again.

She shook her head with a pained expression, closed her eyes for a second, and then opened them again, looking at him as though she was searching for something. He'd noticed her doing that several times lately, come to think of it… From the look on her face, he guessed that tears were imminent again. "I don't know…" she told him slowly, "Just… this."

Smiling with relief, he nodded. "Anything," he said quietly, feeling his eyelids growing heavy as the long hours and the intense emotions finally caught up with him. He let his head rest against the pillow that lay beneath both of their heads, leaning his slightly forward so that his forehead pressed against her cheek. Her hair fell into his face, tickling his cheek, and as he breathed in slowly, he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. The last thing he remembered was pulling her closer as he surrendered to sleep for the third time that night.

Jane lay awake, still tense, long after she had watched Kurt fall asleep. Her nightmare had been indistinct – dark shapes, noises, whispers of Keaton's voice, the smell of the black site… nothing specific, just everything that she was afraid of all at once. There were other parts that she couldn't quite remember, too. Not that she wanted to…

Slowly, laying there beside Kurt, listening to his breathing, she finally began to relax. She'd sworn fiercely to herself that she was done trusting anyone else. That had been fine for a while, while she and the team had barely been speaking to each other, but now… clearly it wasn't going so well now. She couldn't explain it to herself – there was just something about Kurt, even after the mess they had both made of things, the horrible things they'd done to each other… Somehow she just couldn't let go of the nagging idea that just maybe, he was the exception to that rule that she'd made for herself, despite everything in their past… After all, they'd always been each other's exceptions before, for literally as long as she could remember.

The last time she looked at the clock, she thought to herself that she'd have to be getting up soon, but that didn't matter. Not really. What did matter to her was that by that point she'd almost made it through the rest of the night without another nightmare. That in itself was something of an accomplishment – one that she often failed at. As her eyes finally closed, despite her best efforts to stop them, the faintest trace of a smile appeared on her lips without her even realizing it. Turning back onto her side, she leaned back against Kurt. For once, there was one good thing about the strange reality that she called her life. _Him_.


	11. We Can

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: I was really enjoying being able to post every day, but once I ran through the first part of the story (it goes fast with long chapters), which I had initially written all at once in a burst of inspiration, I've had trouble keeping up that pace… something about the impending Christmas holiday that's happening in another week in real life, not just in a few days in this fic, plus all the other insanities of my life. I definitely can't get the ideas down as fast as they're coming to me though. This chapter has a few little callbacks to some of my other fics, which I know that at least one of you will catch. :) Enjoy!_

Kurt's plan had been to get on the road for Clearfield early – around six am, if possible – and he figured he could easily accomplish that without an alarm. After all, he seemed to wake up early naturally, even when he went to bed far too late. The only times when he really slept in were when he was hung over, and since he hadn't had anywhere near enough to drink at the party the night before to make that a possibility, he'd never thought to turn on his alarm. Of course, he'd never anticipated that he would have the night that he'd ended up having. Therefore, they were not on the road at six am. In fact, it was almost seven thirty by the time he stirred for the first time.

Before his eyes even opened he could tell that he wasn't in his own bed, and before his brain was awake enough to understand _why_ , he felt someone else lying next to him… Alarm bells sounded in his head, and he promptly had a split second of panic. _What in the world did I_ _ **do**_ _last night? Who—?_ And then it all came flooding back to him, everything from the night before, all the way back to the party, and Jane… all of it. He still hadn't exerted the effort to push his eyes open, and yet now that he remembered, now he was smiling, just thinking about where he was at that moment and the fact that it was Jane who was there so close to him.

Just the thought of it all, the sensation of his arms around her… he was more than a little bit in Awe. He lay there, awake, with his eyes closed, just enjoying the moment. There had been a time when he'd let himself imagine something like this, a time that was now long past. This unexpected reality, however, was better than anything he had ever imagined, and he was almost unwilling to open his eyes and begin the process of waking up. After all, that would inevitably lead, eventually, to having to leave this position. How long could he get away with staying like this?

So he lay there with a smile on his face, soaking in the moment as he gradually became more and more awake, and the need to see her face became stronger and stronger. Finally, he let his eyes blink open, taking a second for everything to come into focus. When they did, he saw Jane, very much awake and watching him with a hesitant smile. She was still laying with her back against him, but she'd twisted her shoulders just enough to be able to look at him without giving herself a sore neck.

"Good morning," he said groggily, not looking any farther into the room than her face right in front of him.

She smiled back awkwardly, glancing down, and then back up at him. "Good morning," she said quietly. There was more than a hint of uncertainty in her voice. If he didn't know better, he'd say that she'd been awake and overthinking things for a while already.

"What time is it?" he asked, looking up over his right shoulder at the sun coming in through the window above the couch and knowing that it was later than he'd intended to sleep. _Not_ that it really mattered, but he needed to have an idea how to adjust things.

"About seven thirty," she told him, after turning to consult the clock across the room. She turned back around, or as far around as she'd been when he'd woken up, and was once again watching him carefully, he noticed.

The longer they lay there watching each other, the more awkward she felt about having fallen asleep on the couch pressed so close to him like this. Yes, they'd agreed last night – it seemed like the whole thing _should_ have been weird, but it hadn't been. Except that at that moment, it _was_ weird – at least as far as she was concerned.

A million things were racing through her head at that moment. She felt like she should definitely sit up, like she should _not_ be lying here with him, with his arms around her like this. It was perfect, after all. _Too perfect_. Perfect didn't happen to her. _Good_ barely happened to her, and only as a setup for heartbreak, for pain. No, she definitely needed to sit up, get a little bit of distance from him…

Except for the fact that she had absolutely _no_ desire whatsoever to do that. She didn't want to sit up, she didn't want to be farther away from him, she didn't want him to let go of her… and it terrified her. _Why did I think that this weekend would possibly be a good idea?_ she thought frantically. _Why in my right mind would I ever have thought that? What am I doing here?_

They watched each other carefully and, since they were so close together and since he knew her so well, he could almost hear the grinding of the wheels in her head. Her pulse was racing, she was beginning to breathe faster, and as the seconds ticked by, there was a more and more terrified look in her eyes… He could feel her tensing up in his arms, and he hoped that it didn't all mean she was going to suddenly bolt, though it seemed to be becoming a greater and greater possibility.

While he wished that she didn't feel like she needed to protect herself from him – because that's what it was, after all – he knew that part of it was, once again, his own fault. _You did this to yourself_ , he thought, to use a phrase that he'd already overused to remind himself of his own guilt. Pushing those thoughts aside once more, he decided to try to finally _do_ something about it.

Knowing that he'd already said the words to her – lots of them – the ones that he hoped would make her relax, he decided that she needed actions even more than she needed words. When he pulled his arms just a little tighter around her, for a second he felt her go even more rigid, and he wondered if he'd made the wrong decision.

 _Give it a minute,_ he told himself, and leaned his forehead against the side of her face, just holding it there. After a few more seconds he felt the tension in her seem to leave, but now her breathing was different – it wasn't fast, but it was shaky and almost like she was gasping for breath without actually gasping, if that made any sense.

 _It doesn't_ , he assured himself as he leaned his head back to try to get a look at her face.

She was staring at the ceiling, looking distraught. After staring at her profile for several seconds, unable to figure out the best thing to say to bring her back from wherever she'd gone, he knew only that he had to get her out of her own head again. "Jane?" He said her name worriedly, as more of a question than anything else.

 _Jane_. The sound of her name echoed in her head from far away, and she knew that she needed to follow the sound… but how do you follow an echo? Waiting to see if she'd hear it again, she tried to quiet the roaring sound of her thoughts, which were making it hard to hear anything else.

"Hey, Jane, it's okay. It's going to be okay."

There it was, her name again. Latching onto it with all her might, she used the sound of his voice as a rope, pulling as hard as she could to bring herself back to the surface, out of the dark depths of her thoughts. She knew it wasn't a place she wanted to go, of course, but somehow she could never quite stop herself.

He continued to watch her as her eyes squeezed shut and she pursed her lips, clearly exerting some sort of mental effort, followed by a deep breath. And then her eyes blinked open again, and she turned slowly to look at him. If it was possible, the green of her eyes was even more vibrant than ever, he thought, shocked by the despair, the sadness that he saw in them. He willed himself not to notice the ache in his chest so that he could focus on her.

 _You can fix it,_ he told himself desperately, hoping against hope that this was actually true.

She knew that she'd gotten lost in her thoughts for a few minutes there, and despite the urge to sit up, to put distance between them for her own safety, she stayed right where she was, immobilized by the fact that they were suddenly staring into each other's eyes. It was obvious just from looking at him that he was worried about her. After the scene she'd made last night – which she only remembered in fuzzy bits and pieces – she supposed she'd just given him a new reason to be worried about her.

 _Perfect_ , she thought sarcastically to herself. How had she forgotten that going to Pennsylvania with him for the weekend would mean that he was going to witness her nightmares? She wondered if she still would have agreed to go if she _had_ thought about it, if _he_ now regretted offering to bring her along… Now that he knew. He'd barely slept because of her, after all. In any case, it didn't really matter now what she would have done or not done. That cat was out of the bag, so to speak.

He smiled at her sadly, suddenly at a loss for what to do or say. _What if I can't fix it, all the things_ _ **I**_ _allowed to get broken in her?_ he thought miserably. At that moment, it seemed impossible that he could actually help her, and he couldn't help but wonder if she would be better off without him.

 _No,_ he corrected himself before he even allowed the thought to finish forming. _You know Jane, and you know that without you here, it would be worse. That's not your ego talking, that's a fact. Look at her. You're the only one she ever opened up to. If she's not opening up to you, she's not opening up to_ _ **anyone**_ _. After everything she's been through, she needs you. Just remember that. She may or may not even know it, but she does. And yes, she needs you even more because of…_ He couldn't even bear to say the words in his head. She needed him more because of all the horrible things that had happened to her because of _him_. Not _only_ because of him, maybe, but because of him nonetheless.

 _She needs you more because of all of it. You're_ _ **not allowed**_ _to fail her again. Not because she said so, because_ _ **you**_ _said so._

"Hey," he whispered near her ear. She could hear the relief in his voice, and it made her smile just a little. Part of her insisted that it was ridiculous to doubt how he felt about her, but after everything that had happened, how could she _not?_ The evidence was there, months of it, in the form of disdainful looks and overheard conversations and simply _silence_ , where he had acted as though she didn't exist. She had wished so many times that she _didn't_ exist. It would have been so much easier for everyone, after all.

But then the other part of her insisted once again that he _did_ care, and the evidence was quite literally staring her in the face. Piercing blue eyes that were looking at her insistently, worriedly, that belonged to the man who had just pulled her back out of the abyss of her thoughts just by saying her name. His words held that much power over her, more than they should, perhaps, but that was how it was, how it had been.

The two warring factions in her mind, which could be divided, she supposed, into her head and her heart, continued to battle – her head insisting that she couldn't possibly believe that he cared about her and her heart insisting that she couldn't possibly believe that he _didn't_. Both had compelling evidence. It was as though somehow her head and her heart had just suddenly stopped communicating, and it was making her panic.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. He felt like that was all he ever said to her, and it sounded weak and ineffectual in his ears. _Can't you think of anything better than that?_ he asked himself, a little bit desperately. _I wonder if she's getting as tired of me asking her that question constantly as I am_. But how could he _not_ ask? After all, that was all he wanted… for her to be okay. Even if she hated him, even if she wanted nothing to do with him, if she was alright, that would be enough for him.

 _Yeah, right_ , the voice in his head replied sarcastically. You know very well that that wouldn't be enough. He'd have to deal with that voice later, because right now he was focused on Jane.

"Yeah, I… I think so." There was a weak smile on her face for a few seconds, but it vanished again. "I guess I downplayed the nightmares a little bit yesterday… Sorry. I.." She sighed heavily, looking away for a second, then back at him. "I didn't mean to wake you up last night." She felt like she should be able to come up with something better to say, but she couldn't, so she pushed the words out the best she could.

"No, you didn't wake me… wait… what?" He looked at her in shock, shaking his head. "No, Jane, don't apologize." If she didn't know better, she'd have said that he sounded almost offended. The pained look took over his face again, the one he got when he was thinking about how he'd failed her – she could already recognize it. He took a breath, looked back up at her and started again. "I was just worried about you last night. I'm worried about you _now._ You seemed really scared. _Distraught_."

"I _was_ ," she said quietly, her eyes now focused on his shirt, straight in front of her so that she wouldn't have to meet his eyes, "and then when I finally woke up, after the nightmare, at first, I didn't know where I was. I slept out here because it was more familiar, and… closer to… uh…" She felt herself blushing bright red, realizing what she had just almost said, and attempted to continue on as if nothing had happened. "…but I just…" Despite a valiant effort to keep talking, her voice broke then, and she was no longer able to string her words together into a sentence. So she stopped talking and just looked back up at him for a minute. When her brain could process her thoughts again, she added sadly, "I thought that would help, being somewhere I recognized, but it didn't. Not really."

He nodded solemnly, and just when he was going to say something reassuring, she looked back down at the same spot on his shirt, so that once again, she didn't have to look into his eyes, and added, her voice shaking slightly, "I'm not sure that I'm going to be very good company this weekend. It's okay if you want to change your mind."

 _How can she do this to herself?_ he wondered. _She's been doing it for months, ever since she came back. How can she constantly and insistently ignore what she obviously needs so desperately, thinking only of how she can make things easier for other people? People who've been unrelentingly horrible to her at that._

 _Easy,_ the voice in his head replied quickly. S _he convinced herself – or the CIA,_ _ **Keaton**_ _, convinced her – that she's worthless. That she's not even a human being_. _And it obviously stuck._

The tragedy of this thought only made him more determined than ever to hold onto her tightly. Of course, it was _her_ decision whether or not she wanted to come along. "What? Jane… _No._ It doesn't change anything. I know you don't believe me, but I want to help you…" He stopped, once again at a loss. How in the world could he even begin to convince her that he cared after months of giving her nothing but evidence to the contrary? He closed his eyes for a minute, feeling lower than low once again. He focused simply on breathing, trying to remain calm, then opened his eyes again and looked at her, hoping he didn't look as desperate as he suddenly felt.

"Do you not _want_ to come with me, Jane? Because it's up to you, of course," he said, in a much calmer voice than how he actually felt. He held his breath as he waited for her answer, hoping that she wouldn't change her mind. Not now.

"It's not that," she replied, feeling almost frantic at just the thought of being stuck in her safe house alone for the long holiday weekend after the pure elation of knowing that she wouldn't have to do just that. "I just… You don't need to deal with all of this from me," she continued, her voice growing quieter with each word. "No one should have to."

Once again, the look on his face surprised her – he looked baffled. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open, for a full minute before he could bring himself to speak. "You don't get it, do you?" he asked quietly. "I'm not 'dealing with you.' I'm _worried_ about you. Making sure you're okay isn't a chore to me. It's something I want to do – something I _need_ to do–"

"Because it's your job," she interrupted. The words came out with far more spite than she'd intended them to… but then again, it was the truth, wasn't it? "You've been doing _your job_ the last few months, right? I'm _alive_ , aren't I? Thanks for all the help with that, by the way." That had been a low blow, she knew, and it took seeing the look on his face before she realized the impact of what she'd said.

He was stunned for a second, but started shaking his head immediately, willing himself to find the right words. Obviously, so far this wasn't coming out the way he wanted it to.

"Jane, _**no**_ … because I _care_ about you. Because you're important to me." He watched as an angry fire flared in her eyes, and he couldn't figure out what he'd just said wrong, because it was obvious she didn't believe him, that he'd just made it worse.

She heard the words, but didn't know how to react. For a few seconds, her mind was simply frozen. How could she process something like that? What he was saying went against everything she'd thought she'd known, everything she'd told herself to help her keep everyone at bay, and everything that his _behavior_ , even as recently as _yesterday,_ for God's sake, had indicated…

And yet, the fact that they'd come as far as they had in the past twenty four hours told her that she already knew that he was being sincere. _If you didn't trust him enough to believe what he's saying, then why the hell are you here?_ she demanded of herself.

Suddenly, she felt herself getting angry. _Since when did he care about me that much?_ Why had he only started treating her like a human being yesterday, if she was so damn important to him? That kind of devotion sure would have been nice back when—

 _Stop it,_ she ordered her mind. _Stop it right now. You're alive, and he's alive. Both of you could have died not too long ago, but you didn't. You escaped from hell._ _ **Escaped**_ _. You were damn lucky to get out of there, and you have every right to be angry… But that doesn't give you the_ _ **exclusive**_ _right to moral indignation. You're not any more innocent in this than he is, and you're probably a hell of a lot guiltier. Whatever happened, happened. Either just get over it, or walk away right now, because it's not fair to hold it over his head. He feels like_ _ **dirt**_ _right now. So either accept that the things that he's saying are really how he feels about you, or just get up and leave. But don't sit around torturing him – that makes you not all that different from Keaton._

That thought – comparing herself to Keaton – took her breath away, and for a second, she felt like she'd been punched in the stomach, _hard_. _I would never_ … she thought.

Without warning, she was suddenly pulled back out of her head by Kurt's whispered voice. It was different this time, more desperate than she'd ever heard him before, and when she looked up, she saw a look in his eyes was just as distraught as his voice.

"Jane… I know… That you have no reason to… I don't know how to…" He was shaking his head, but at what? His own thoughts, maybe, she decided, as jumbled as they seemed to be. Finally, he looked away from her. "I've already failed you once… I won't…" His voice broke then, and he paused to take a breath before he continued. "I won't do it again." Now it was his turn to be unable to look in _her_ eyes, while hers searched his face, still confused.

The angry side of her mind had popped up out of nowhere, and it had disappeared just as quickly, leaving only echoes of the words lingering in their wake. Looking at him now, it almost was as if they had somehow suddenly had their roles reversed, because where she had only seconds ago felt a flare of anger and bitterness, now she felt the need to comfort _him._

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, making sure that her voice was calm. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I just…" She sighed heavily, trying to find the words to explain how she felt. "It's hard to believe I could be important to you at all, which less that much. Up until yesterday we…" She shook her head sadly, feeling tears building behind her eyes again. She was so _tired_. She could deal with being physically tired, but this was different. Emotionally, she was beyond tired, and at that moment she didn't feel like she had anything left – not for him or for anyone. Not even for _herself_.

He sighed heavily, and she swore she could _hear_ sadness in just his release of air, if that was possible. It was all over his face as well. "I can't explain it. I want to, but I don't even understand it myself," he said tiredly. "I look back on the way I've acted since… _that night_ … and I remember it, but I feel like it wasn't me." She nodded, but said nothing, knowing that he wasn't finished. "I was so…" He closed his eyes, trying to find the words.

"I was _so angry_. At you, at my father, at myself, at the world… But my father was _dead_ , and it was easier to be angry with you than to share the blame myself…" Shaking his head sadly, he continued. "I told myself that I hated you. I thought I _did_ hate you. Or maybe I really did… I hated everything and everyone… But it was easier to hate _you_."

Even though she already knew this, and that, looking at it from his perspective, it wasn't completely unjustified, given everything that had happened, it still stung. She nodded, fighting hard against the urge to withdraw from him, and felt the familiar numbness descend over her like a cold, wet blanket, felt her walls quickly rebuild themselves. It was amazing how fast she suddenly felt the way she had for all of those months once again, even laying there beside Kurt, even hearing him say it all in the past tense. She deserved it, she knew. This was why it was just so much easier not to let herself feel any of it…

"I should have let you explain it all, that night," he continued. "I know that now. I was just… I snapped. It doesn't excuse it, I just… And then, after the CIA took you, I lost the chance to even talk to you and…" He shook his head slowly, as if doing that would dislodge the memories. He didn't _want_ to remember this part, but he forced himself to. After all, it wasn't as though _she_ could just choose to forget what they'd done to her, so the least he could do was not be a coward about it.

"When we got you back, I wanted to let it go, but I didn't know how. Even after you told us everything… I _needed_ to let it go. I just…" He remembered telling Zapata that he didn't want to be in the same room as Jane, and then realizing that Jane had overheard him… He remembered that that day, it had made him feel satisfaction and sick to his stomach all at once. Now, he just felt like the very worst, most insensitive, heartless person in the world.

"It was easier to keep acting the same way I'd been acting. It was easier to keep telling myself that what you'd done was unforgiveable, than to admit to myself that I _wanted_ to forgive you, and even more than that, to forgive _myself_ for not finding Taylor, because it shouldn't all be connected to you, but it is…" She hadn't expected that, and she blinked in surprise. Taylor was yet another sensitive subject between the two of them. It seemed like _everything_ was a sensitive subject between them.

"And as far as what happened to _you_ … The more I think about it, the more I know that I'll _never_ forgive myself for that…" He stopped, and focused on her for the first time in several minutes, his expression one of absolute sincerity. "To you, I know, all this seems like it came out of nowhere. But to me… even though I didn't even _realize_ it until now… I think it was a long time coming. I didn't know how to…"

He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head yet again as he continued speaking. "I wish I'd done better along the way. I really do. You deserve so much better than all of this… than me…" He stopped, unable to continue. As his eyes finally opened slowly, he expected to see disgust on her face. After all, that was what he deserved.

She watched him silently, stunned, and swore she saw his eyes watering. What could she say after something like that? She had absolutely no idea. She didn't know _anything_ anymore.

All this time that they'd been talking, ever since she'd woken up and found herself on the couch with him, she'd been turned part of the way around to look at him, her back still pressed gently against the front of him. Now she turned _all_ the way around onto her right side, even though this position pushed her farther toward the edge of the couch. His hands hadn't moved, and even after everything they'd both said, his hands were still clasped just as securely, now behind her back – if not _more_ so. He was holding onto her, keeping her from falling backwards onto the floor, and it seemed like there was something very fitting about that – since he was figuratively doing the same thing.

Sighing quietly, she looked into his eyes, which were still focused on her. Neither of them smiled, but neither of them frowned, either. If she had to guess, not being able to see her own expression, she was pretty sure that the two of them probably looked equally distraught equally lost. For several minutes they stayed still, just like that, watching each other and not knowing what to do or say next.

Just when he started to feel like his disaster of a confession, or speech, or whatever it had been, had ruined everything, she slowly began wiggling her way up toward the end of the couch so their heads were almost even. He watched her curiously as she simply leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, and closing her eyes.

"I don't know how to do this," she said in a shaky whisper. "Any of it."

"I know," he replied tiredly. "I don't know either. But that's okay. Just keep doing it…"

"I don't know if I can," she whispered, her voice breaking, as she tried her best to ignore the feeling of desperation building inside her. She didn't even know what she was talking about anymore, what this 'it' was that she didn't know how to do. Maybe it was just everything, just her _life_. After all, she'd certainly made the biggest possible mess of _that…_

She felt him shake his head gently against her forehead, pushing hers from side to side slightly. For some reason, the movement made her smile just a little. "You can," he said quickly, " _We_ can. Okay?"

"Okay," she replied, almost too quietly for him to hear. She was simply too tired to argue… She needed something…

 _You need_ _ **him**_ _,_ the voice in her head said. _You always have._

With that, he pulled her closer to him with his right arm, bringing it up to her shoulders and lifting her slightly off of the couch, so that his left arm, which she'd been lying on, was free to move as well. That arm also came up to shoulder level, and then he set her back down against it, and against the couch, now holding on fiercely to her, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

 _I'm going to fix it_ , he thought with renewed determination.

She was so tired… in every way that it was possible to be tired. And yet, it was already morning, and she knew that they couldn't stay like this – even though she wouldn't have minded. She would have to get through the day somehow, even though she didn't even feel strong enough to sit up… _I'll just close my eyes for a minute_ , she told herself, and then quickly fell back to sleep. Her last fleeting thought as she did was that it didn't matter that it didn't make sense – However it had happened, for once she actually felt safe.

When he realized that she'd fallen back to sleep he couldn't help but smile, despite how completely drained he felt. _She has the right idea_ , she thought, even though he knew that falling asleep hadn't been something that she'd done consciously. She hadn't slept the night before, not really, and their discussions so far had been… to call them intense was an understatement. He wondered if it would be as simple for him to fall asleep, if he were to close his eyes for a few minutes, too… So he decided to try it. Why not?

For a few minutes, he lay awake, simply breathing in the sensations of where he was and the fact that he was with Jane. The rest of it – everything that had happened between them – it all simply melted away, until there was only that moment, where Jane lay asleep and he held onto her tightly. As much as the rest of it mattered, really, it didn't. At least not now. Before he knew it, he was asleep as well.

Jane woke up what felt like a few minutes later, this time remembering exactly where she was. Even before she moved a muscle, she just lay still and enjoyed the feeling of waking with Kurt so close to her, of his arms around her – not quite as tightly now, since from the sound of him, he had fallen back to sleep, too. She could say one thing for that pair of strong arms of his – when he was asleep, they were _heavy_ , and she knew that she couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to.

 _Good thing I don't want to,_ she thought with a smile, finally allowing her eyelids to flutter open. She found his face immediately in front of hers, their foreheads still leaned together, and she couldn't help but smile tiredly. There had already been far too much overthinking, and her mind was exhausted, so she just lay and looked at him and thought about how happy she felt at _that exact moment_ , nothing else.

It wasn't too long before he stirred. She knew the moment he began to wake up, because his arms tightened around her once again, and she felt his forehead lean into hers a little harder, as if it also wanted to participate in the hug. When he opened his eyes, she saw so many things. Exhaustion. Worry. Happiness. Regret. And so many others that she simply couldn't separate from each other. Her chest ached, and she wasn't sure if it was from happiness or sadness, but it almost didn't matter. The fact that she didn't feel numb was a welcome relief.

He was amused to see that she'd been watching him when he opened his eyes, awake before him once again. This time, there was a sense of peace on her face that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it was more exhaustion than peace, or maybe just a mix of both. In any case, she didn't look panicked, and for this he was truly grateful.

"Good morning," he whispered, leaning forward just enough that the tip of his nose touched the tip of hers.

"Good morning," she whispered back, her smile holding steady. This was much better than the first try at waking up, almost like a successful 'do-over.' She couldn't tear her eyes away from him, and what's more, she saw no reason to try.

"Did you sleep better this time around?" he asked, watching her steadily.

"Much better," she whispered, almost afraid to break the spell that she was sure was surrounding them just then.

"Good," he replied just as quietly. "Can you see what time it is?" he asked, thought immediately regretting it when she turned her head the other direction and her forehead was no longer pressed against his.

"Nine fifteen," she said, turning back around and, to his surprise, pressing her forehead and her nose right back where they'd been, against his. "That's better," she murmured as she settled back in against him.

"We need to get up," he mumbled, making no more move to get up than he had when he'd said it the night before. After a pause, during which she thought that maybe if she stayed quiet, he'd forget about the idea of getting up, he realized exactly what she was doing. So he tried another approach. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No," she replied before she realized what she was saying, and that he was going to make her eat regardless.

"Well that's too bad, because it's time for breakfast," he told her with a grin, their faces still pressed together. She shook her head sheepishly, now making _his_ forehead move slightly with the movement of hers, and rolling her eyes. The look on his face was quite insistent, and she knew that he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. This was his new "Make Jane Eat" campaign, and she wasn't even going to try to argue. Besides, it felt nice to know that he cared enough to make sure she was taken care of. Though it was terrifying if she let herself think about just how much she liked the feeling, just then she refused to think about it that hard, and simply stuck with enjoying it.

"I'm not against breakfast, I'd even be willing to _eat it_ ," she replied jokingly, hoping that he understood what she was saying. _I've barely fed myself for months but I'm willing to eat, because you're telling me to, but…_ "I just don't want to _move_ … You know… _ever,_ " she lamented.

His laughter at her words was music to her ears, and for a few seconds he squeezed his arms around her shoulders even tighter. "Not an option," he whispered, moving just enough to rub their noses together, before slowly leaning back away from her. He released her reluctantly, gently unlocking his hands from behind her back so that she had no choice but to change positions, to turn partway around and sit up, her back once again facing him, just to avoid falling backwards onto the floor. She started to move closer to him, but he somehow managed to sit up before she leaned back against him, so that they were now sitting beside each other.

"You want to go take a shower while I make you some breakfast?" he asked, sitting an inch away from her and feeling like the gap between them was a mile wide.

"Since I'm up, I guess I may as well," she sighed, pretending to pout. He just smiled at her for a few seconds and then stood up, forcing himself to walk across the room, away from her, against his will.

Looking back and seeing her still sitting there, watching him, he called, "Hey, get moving! We're already late!" His words were impatient, but he grinned happily and his tone was warm. Yes, they needed to get moving, but it wasn't an all day trip, so they should still be fine.

Finally standing up, she walked across the room to her bag, taking out her change of clothes and the toiletries that she needed, realizing for the first time that she was still wearing his NYC sweatshirt. Looking down at it, she couldn't help but smile.

 _I shouldn't like_ _ **any**_ _of this so much_ , she told herself. _But I don't care… I really do like it._

At that moment, that was enough.


	12. Not Quite There

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

Moving as quickly as she could, Jane took a shower, pausing for just a few minutes under the hot water, soaking in the idea that she was at Kurt's apartment. It was strange to be taking a shower anywhere besides her safe house… The fact that she – _they_ _–_ would be spending the weekend at his family's house… that was almost beyond her comprehension, and just another thing on the list of so many things that she'd never thought that she would do, especially not after everything between them.

Kurt may not have been excited in the least to go back to Clearfield, but – though she wouldn't say it to him – Jane _was_ looking forward to the trip. No, maybe 'looking forward to' was the wrong way to say it… maybe it was more curiosity to see the place where Kurt and Taylor had lived. After all, Sandstorm had put so much effort into making her Taylor Shaw, and she'd thought for so long that she _was_ Taylor, even now, knowing the truth, she still felt some sort of connection with the little girl that Kurt had loved as a child, and the town where the two of them had lived and, they now knew, where she had died. Besides, Jane was just as much Taylor as she had ever been – which was to say, not at all. For some reason she felt like by going back there with Kurt, she would understand _him_ better. An extra few days with him was a bonus, too.

While Jane was in the bathroom, Kurt did a quick inventory of the kitchen. Since Sarah had moved out, there had been significantly less food in the house. Since he spent most of his time at work, and did his fair share of eating out, there was little time for shopping, making it a lot more challenging to know what he'd be able to fix for the occasional means when he was actually at home. He wasn't home enough to warrant having much on hand, though he very much enjoyed cooking. _One of these days_ , he always told himself, but he never really had a reason to change his habits.

But the chance to cook for Jane was an unexpected treat. He had smiled when he'd realized that he still remembered what she liked from back in the days, at the _very_ beginning, when he'd appointed himself to help her figure out some of her favorite foods.

 _What happened to_ _ **that**_ _guy?_ he asked himself. _The one who not only thought about her wellbeing, but gave up a precious Saturday morning off to go over and make different kinds of eggs so that she would know which one she liked best?_

 _He just woke up again,_ he told himself with a healthy dose of guilt. It was exactly like he'd told Jane. He _remembered_ the past months, since the night he'd arrested her, but it was like having someone else's memories. That man… and the way he'd reacted to everything… it just didn't feel like him. The man he was now, with Jane… _that_ felt like him. Now he had to work on making Jane believe in him again, which he knew would take a long, long time. He couldn't blame her. After all, look at what she had been through.

His mind wandered back to that morning at her safe house long ago. After trying four different kinds of eggs, he remembered, she'd settled on scrambled as her favorite. That was the last time he'd made them for her – he wondered if _she_ would remember.

 _Probably not,_ he thought. But _he_ remembered it fondly.

Then he wondered how so much time had gone by since then without his having made them for her again.

 _Let's not start that,_ he told himself. _Time passes. Your job continuously demands_ _ **everything**_ _from you, and sometimes even more than that. She doesn't expect things like that from you._

 _No, she expects_ _ **nothing**_ _from me,_ he thought with a heavy heart, the realization stinging slightly. _Because that's what I've been giving her. Nothing, or less than nothing._

 _You can't change that now,_ the voice in his head reasoned. _Just do better from now on, remember?_ He nodded at his own sound logic, and promised himself once again that he would do just that.

Finally turning his attention to the almost empty refrigerator in front of him, he saw that there wasn't much in the way of food inside, but that he did have several important things. One of those things was eggs, and the second, in the freezer, was bagels. Of course, there was also coffee. He decided that, while not any kind of gourmet, this was pretty respectable. Besides, all things considered, that would probably be all he could get her to eat, anyway – if that much.

When Jane emerged from the bathroom a little while later, looking a little more relaxed, the food was just about ready. "Perfect timing," he told her as she stuck her pajamas and her toiletries back into her bag, then joined him in the kitchen.

She approached slowly, unsure exactly how close to get. Finally leaning back against the counter a few feet away from where he was moving eggs around in a pan, she stood and watched him.

"Can I help with anything?" Jane asked. Only seconds after that, the toaster popped loudly, making her jump just a little.

"Nope," he told her, shaking his head. "It's ready." He put half of the bagel on each plate that sat on the counter, then quickly spread butter on them before turning back to the eggs, turning off the heat for the burner and splitting them between two plates. He sprinkled a little bit of salt on the eggs, and then picked up the plates.

She was watching him carefully when he turned around, holding their breakfast plates. Not that he was doing anything fascinating, it was just… _none of this seems real_ , she thought. Once upon a time she'd said those same words to him… But not like this. It hadn't been a good thing that time. Now… now was better.

"Hey, go—" He was about to tell her to go have a seat at the table, because the food was ready, but when he turned around holding the plates, there was a strange look on her face. Unable to tell whether she was lost in good thoughts or bad, or just _thoughts_ , he took the few steps forward to where she leaned against the counter and stood for a second just looking at her. "Everything okay?" he asked.

If she'd hesitated a split second longer, he would have had the plates on the counter behind her so that he could focus only on her. However, her eyes snapped back up to his at the sound of his voice, and she realized that she'd spaced out for a second. Surprised – but _not_ unpleasantly – that he was standing there right in front of her, she felt herself smile without even trying, and she reached up and took the plates from him.

"I got these," she said, looking into his eyes without blinking, "You have coffee, right?"

 _How did I forget just how_ _ **much**_ _Jane loves coffee?_ he chuckled to himself. _And given that she hasn't slept all that much in the last few months… it must have been more necessary lately than ever._ The last part of his thought had veered over the line that he'd drawn in his mind, in an attempt to avoid the things in their past that it wouldn't help them to rehash, but he refused to dwell on it. He simply let it go.

"Of course," he said with a smile. He held onto the plates for an extra few seconds and they stood there, staring into each other's eyes.

 _Okay, stop smiling at her like an idiot and get the coffee, or she won't be smiling at you anymore,_ he told himself firmly.

This thought only made him chuckle, even though he knew that coffee was absolutely not a laughing matter for Jane. He loved that he remembered that little detail about her. No, it wasn't just that. He loved what the last twenty-four hours had changed things between them into.

 _You love_ _ **her**_ _,_ the voice in his head pointed out helpfully.

Finally letting go of the plates and watching her take them toward the table, he turned around to pick up the mugs of coffee that waited for them on the counter and allowed himself to consider this idea... the idea that he loved her.

 _Maybe,_ he conceded to himself. It was more than he'd ever been willing to admit before when it came to Jane.

The voice in his head, who suddenly seemed to have developed a personality all his own, snorted in amusement. _Maybe?_ it asked him sarcastically. _Do you know how to recognize love? Because you have all the signs._

 _I love Sarah and Sawyer,_ he thought defensively. _I know what it feels like._

 _That is_ _ **not**_ _what I'm talking about, and you know it,_ the voice told him in annoyance.

He had known that, of course. It was different. He thought back over his past, which took only seconds. The only one whose face even appeared as a possibility was Allie, but he knew that what he felt for Allie wasn't love. He cared about her, of course. He wanted the best for her. They had a lot in common and a lot of history. But _love_? No. The rest of the women he'd dated, Nas included, failed to even appear before his eyes.

And then there was Jane… From the time he'd first known her and thought she _might_ be Taylor, there had only been Jane. No matter what mistakes either of them had made, he could see now, with the benefit of hindsight, that there had only been Jane. Even when he'd gone back to Allie… No, there was simply no doubt. _That_ _ **could**_ _be a sign right there_ , he told himself.

When he turned around and saw her setting down the plates on the table, smiling at him, he knew that he was kidding himself. _Of course_ he loved her. What's more, he always had. He saw that now.

Jane couldn't help but think about how nice it was have someone to eat breakfast with. To have someone to eat a meal with, period. Not that she'd been eating many meals lately, but if she _had_ to eat, she was glad that she had Kurt for company. Never mind the fact that if not for him, she wouldn't have been eating anyway, or the fact that she'd been avoiding both meals _and_ people on purpose for a while now. The fact was, she now remembered that she liked this.

When he sat down beside her and set the coffee on the table by their plates, she suddenly looked up at him as if she wanted to ask him something.

 _Does he remember that scrambled eggs were my favorite that day when he made them for me? Is that why he made them today? Or is it a coincidence?_ she wondered. He just smiled back at her, and she swore he was reading her mind… that he was also telling her that yes, he remembered. Somehow at this point, it wouldn't surprise her. Looking down at her breakfast with a smile that was suddenly more self-conscious, she ate the eggs first, remembering the day so long ago when she'd first had them.

Without even having to ask, he could see that she remembered. In fact, there was something special about the fact that neither of them had said a word about it, and yet it was obvious that both of them just _knew_.

They finished eating quickly, Jane not _quite_ finishing everything he'd given her, but declaring that she couldn't eat any more. He certainly wasn't going to push her, not wanting to make her sick, and she'd done a very respectable job. At this point they were both very conscious that they were now far behind their original schedule. After all, it was already almost 9:45 am, and they weren't yet ready to leave.

Jane told Kurt to go take a shower while she cleaned up the few remaining dishes. He tried to protest, not wanting to leave Jane with the work, but when she mentioned how it would help them leave sooner, he gave in and let her finish up. Though it wasn't snowing outside yet, the clouds were beginning to gather, and they looked a little ominous. There wasn't much snow in the forecast for the city, but there was quite a bit expected before the end of the day in Clearfield.

With the dishes easily arranged in the dishwasher, Jane looked around the apartment that was so very perfect for Kurt. She walked up to a framed photograph to get a better look at it, finding a young Kurt standing between two teenage boys of about the same age. Jane could only assume were two of his friends. She looked at the picture, first just studying the younger version of Kurt, finding the ways that he looked the same, and then noticing the ways that he had changed over the years. For some reason, the picture held her attention far longer than she would have expected it to.

 _It must be nice,_ she thought, _to know people. To have known people._ The voice startled her, even though it was only in her own head, so much so that she looked around her quickly to be sure there really _wasn't_ someone else there. No, it had been the voice in her head once again, the same one whose "helpful" observations often made it so hard to focus on the present, and on the good in her life. She knew that this was a train of thought that she really didn't want to board – she'd ridden it many times before, at it didn't lead anywhere she liked.

Still, staring at that picture, it was hard not to make the comparison. After all, the only people she knew – that she had _ever_ known, as far as she remembered – besides Roman and Shepherd – consisted of the team, other people who worked for the FBI (none of whom she knew more than just by name, if that), or the people who they'd arrested or questioned in the cases that she'd worked since she'd crawled out of that damn bag. She did not remember going to school, growing up – other than a very few terrifying, black and white flashes of herself as a child – having friends… none of it.

It was times like this that she wished she could just stuff herself back in the bag and just…

 _No,_ she told herself. _Stop it. You're not helping anything. Turn around and walk away from the picture._

She'd been so busy in her own head that she hadn't heard Kurt walk up beside her, wondering what she was looking at. There was a look on her face that told him that she was thinking hard about something, and that she probably hadn't even noticed him approaching her. When he stopped, he tried to stand at a ninety degree angle to her but with several gaping inches between them, to get into her line of sight. Even now, walking up behind her could be dangerous, since her reaction time was so fast – and after the CIA, she'd been known to overreact when someone approached her unexpectedly. Still, even though he'd tried to stop in her line of sight, he didn't think she was aware of his presence.

"Cousins," he said in answer to the question that she hadn't even known she'd wanted to ask. "Or second cousins. I don't even know. Sarah liked that picture, so she printed it out and put it up. Any pictures you see around here, that's basically Sarah. I'm not big on them, myself. Especially not from when I was young. There…" he paused, but decided that there was no reason not to tell her. She knew him so well, after all. "There wasn't much I wanted to remember about that time."

Jane had looked at him in surprise when he'd started talking, thankfully registering who he was and what he was doing there before her instinct told her to defend herself. Now she smiled sadly, nodding, feeling the full irony of his words. _He_ _ **hadn't wanted**_ _to remember. She had only_ _ **wished**_ _that she could… and then once she had started to remember, and had had more of her memory filled in by Roman and Shepherd, she'd thought that maybe not knowing had been better. So now they had that in common, really._

His eyes moved back and forth, from the picture to Jane. Something about the picture had triggered something in her mind. He couldn't tell quite what it was, and he watched her quietly for some kind of sign, some kind of cue as to how to react.

At the same time, her eyes moved back and forth as well, from Kurt to the picture and back again, as she watched him morph from teenaged Kurt into the Kurt that she knew before her eyes. It was fascinating. After all, she'd never watched anyone grow up before – that she could remember, anyway.

After a long minute or so she nodded, feeling oddly comforted by the fact that the boys in the picture were his cousins, for some reason. Kurt in a picture with cousins or second cousins that he didn't even seem to know very well, from a long time ago was, somehow better than Kurt in a picture with a couple guys who'd been friends of his, even a long time ago. It made the disparity between the two of them, between what she had – _nothing and no one –_ and what he had less depressing. She might have cousins out there somewhere, after all. Even if she didn't remember them, they would still be her cousins. If she'd had friends, on the other hand – though based on the stories she'd heard about her past, Remi didn't seem like the type to have had "friends," not in the way that Jane thought about friends, anyway – well, it was hard to consider someone your friend if you couldn't even remember that they existed.

"You okay?" he asked her uncertainly, watching as she finally turned toward him and smiled. Whatever hold that picture had had over her, it seemed that he'd managed to break it.

"Yes," she replied, happy to have a reason to focus on something else, and even happier that that something was Kurt.

"Okay, we just need to make sure we have everything in terms of snow gear," he said, walking back toward the coat closet and taking out a box labeled "Winter." He carried it back over and pulled out one of the dining room chairs, where he set it down. Beside it, on another chair which he'd also pulled out, now sat yet another duffle bag. "Starting from the top, so we don't miss anything," he said with a grin. "Hats." She watched as he tossed three hats into the duffle bag, seemingly at random.

"Why three?" Jane asked curiously. "There's only two of us."

"Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it," he replied. "Actually, grab two of those back out. We should wear those. Even just getting back to the car will be more bearable if we're dressed more warmly than we were last night."

Jane nodded in agreement, pulling out two of the three hats. One was plain black, the other a dark blue with white snowflakes scattered randomly across it. The one she left inside the bag was a dark green, once again plain except for one white reindeer in the middle. Both of the ones that she picked up were perhaps the softest things she had ever felt. Whatever they were made of, she wanted a blanket made of _that_. No, she wanted _everything_ made of that. She set the black one on the table beside them, and put the blue one on her head.

"Next," Kurt continued, "Scarves." He pulled out scarves that seemed to match the three hats that he'd just chosen, so the kept the sets together – the green one in the duffle bag, the black one on the table for Kurt, and the blue one draped behind her neck and over her shoulders. She didn't like it quite as much as the one Kurt had wrapped around her neck the night before, but she thought that maybe it wasn't really the scarf that she had liked, but the fact that he had wound it around her and then used it to pull her closer. Without realizing it, she smiled at the thought.

When she noticed that he was watching her, she felt herself turn a little bit pink and tried to think of something to say to distract him from whatever she'd just given away. "So, what's next?" she asked quickly.

"Well," he said, "we're good with sweaters and that sort of thing. We both have several in our bags, and we're each wearing them…" Looking down at Kurt's sweatshirt that she had on, she grinned again and almost missed the end of his sentence. "…so the next layer is fleece." He noticed that she seemed to have just remembered she was wearing his sweatshirt, and watched in amusement as she smiled as she looked down at it.

Turning her attention back to him quickly, she blushed when she realized that he was watching her so closely.

Kurt said nothing, just walked back to the closet, where he pushed various jackets out of the way until he found one that he was looking for. "Here's one," he said, pulling out a black fleece, "and another other," he added, pulling out an almost dark identical grey one, both of which looked huge to her.

 _Because they're Kurt's size, silly,_ she told herself.

"I think Sarah had left one in here, which would probably fit you better than mine," he said, putting the first two under his arm so that he could use two hands to search the relatively crowded closet more easily.

She walked over to him and tugged at the two fleeces gently. "Let me take those, it'll be easier," she told him. He looked down at her then, smiling at her thoughtfulness, and their eyes locked for a few seconds.

"Thanks," he said, lifting his arm slightly to release the two jackets.

"Of course," she replied warmly, glad that she could do _something_ to help, not just stand there and watch him. _Not_ that standing there watching him was a bad thing… In fact, they both stood smiling at each other for a few extra seconds, neither one wanting to give up the sudden proximity, even though they weren't actually touching.

He had the urge to put an arm around her, or even better, both arms, and pull her closer, but they needed to get their things in order and get on the road. It wasn't as though he was taking her home, he reminded himself. They had the whole weekend to… he didn't even know how he wanted to finish that thought. _We have the whole weekend, period_ , he thought. The rest of it doesn't matter.

After what felt like far too little time, she stepped away from him with the fleece jackets and walked back toward their staging area at the table, while he continued looking for Sarah's fleece. Really, she was more than willing to wear one of his, simply because it was _his_ , but logically it did make more sense for her to wear Sarah's – if he could find it…

It only took another minute before he found it, buried between two of his larger jackets. Jane reminded herself that she was _not_ disappointed, and was immediately distracted again just looking into his eyes. "Here you go," he told her, walking back to the table with it and holding it out to her. She took it from his hands, though she was focused completely on him, but then looked down at it in surprise. It was white, and even softer than the other two.

"Wow," she said, fingering the soft fabric in awe.

"Yeah, it was always Sarah's favorite," he said, smiling at Jane's reaction. "I was surprised when she left it behind. It may not have been on purpose."

"Well, we can bring it and she can have it back," Jane said brightly.

Kurt stood there, surprised, for a second as he replayed what Jane had said. He hadn't meant to imply that they were returning it to Sarah, though it did make logical sense. No, he realized that as he'd watched Jane put on the hat and scarf so far, he'd automatically began to think of those things as hers. It hadn't even occurred to him that she wouldn't keep them. He forced himself to smile at her, even though he felt a twinge of sadness.

 _You're being a little…_ he didn't even know what to call himself just then. _She_ was acting perfectly normally. They were going to see the owner of the garment in question, and Jane was pleased that she could return it to her. It made sense. So why did it make him feel sad to see her so completely willing to give it to Sarah?

 _Because you've watched her for months now, sacrificing and risking her own health and safety for everyone else, without hesitation, despite how badly everyone else was treating her, including_ _ **you**_ _,_ he thought, feeling guilty once again. _In your mind, you're giving her these things, and she's giving them away willingly. In her mind, she's borrowing them, so_ _ **of course**_ _she's fine with giving them back._

He stopped for a second, surprised at this sudden revelation, then shook his head at himself. Even though he knew that Jane was being completely logical, and he was the one who was acting a little strangely, he felt his affection for her grow in that moment, and once again wished that they didn't have to keep focused on the task at hand.

When he looked back up at her, she'd put on the fleece and was beaming, looking at it almost in awe. "This is… Wow. I need to get one like _this_. I'll have to ask Sarah where she got it." He wanted to tell her that he thought he remembered, except that at that moment, he didn't remember anything. Between how happy she looked, zipping up the fleece jacket and running her hands over it, and how beautiful she looked just then, her green eyes sparkling with _happiness_ , not tears this time, he couldn't bring himself to do anything except grin at her. He saw that she'd put the black fleece into "his" pile and the grey one into the duffle bag.

"I like this game," Jane said, looking up at him happily. "What's next?"

He chuckled as he looked into the closet once more. "Snow pants," he told her. She looked at him in confusion as he pulled out the overall style black pants, the same kind that Sarah had bought Sawyer to play in the snow in, but much, much bigger. "I only have one of these… sorry. We'll put it in the bag, because neither of us needs to wear _that_ in the car. Sarah may have a spare one of those in Clearfield, if we end up needing it… She tends to over pack." He looked up at her sheepishly as she approached to take the garment from him. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" she asked in surprise. "For what? That you don't have extras of _every single winter article of clothing_? You're kidding right?" Shaking her head at him, she opened her mouth to speak, but after that she seemed to be at a loss for words, at least as far as he could tell.

 _Is he really apologizing to me for that?_ she wondered. _After being willing to share not only his Christmas with his family with me, but basically his entire winter wardrobe? He's simply too much…_

He thought about what she'd just said. He supposed he _had_ sort of just apologized to her for not having an entire spare winter wardrobe that he could share with her. _Well, when you put it that way it just sounds silly,_ he thought, blinking in surprise at Jane's words. She was right, he supposed, but… but he _did_ regret not having snow pants to lend her. Hell, he would've given them to her if he had them. She could keep all the gear she'd just put on, as far as he was concerned. What good was it doing sitting in his closet, after all? And she _needed_ it.

"Anyway," he said slowly, urging himself to move on to the next thing. "Next up, _real_ jackets."

"Wait, _more jackets?_ " Jane asked. "How many jackets do we need?"

Kurt chuckled at her, shaking his head in amusement. "It's all about having layers," he told her. "It's not like here. If we're out in the snow for any length of time… just trust me. You want a fleece _and_ a winter jacket. And _not_ a leather jacket, I'm afraid." That was when he noticed Jane's leather jacket, hung on the back of the chair beside her when she'd put on the fleece.

"Okay, yeah, that part I get," she said with a nod, looking fondly at her leather jacket. It was really the only "nice" thing that she owned, but she'd been shivering in it for a few months now, and she knew that it wasn't warm enough, even for winter weather in New York City, much less somewhere colder.

Kurt reached into the closet once again, coming back out with the winter jacket that she'd seen him wear a few times, on the coldest of days recently, as well as another one that looked similar, but not quite as big.

"I can't believe you have two of those," Jane commented, looking more than a little surprised.

"Oh, I don't just have these two," Kurt replied, walking over to hand them to her and then back to the closet to fish out another one. "I also have Sarah's 'second favorite jacket,' which she left here. I swear, I don't know how she didn't run out of money with all the shopping she did." He paused for only a few seconds before it dawned on him.

"Actually, I _do_ know how she didn't run out of money. She lived with her brother for a year or so." He shook his head with a smile as he thought about Sarah. She was irritating at times, but she had taken good care of him. They were each other's only family, besides Sawyer, and she had always managed to keep them from drifting apart, no matter how hard he'd tried to push her away. Deep down, she'd known that he needed her.

"So you didn't charge her rent?" she asked teasingly, knowing that Kurt would never have done such a thing.

"She tried to pay rent at first," he said, thinking back to when his sister and nephew had first descended upon his apartment unexpectedly. He'd been overwhelmed at having them around, initially, but he'd gotten used to it, and now, though he wasn't sure he'd admit it to Sarah, he actually missed the company – some of the time, at least. It was nice to have peace and quiet after a long day, sometimes, but at the same time, it could be almost _too_ quiet. He hadn't even noticed it, really, until last night, having Jane there. But having Jane there was even _better_ than having Sarah and Sawyer.

"…but I just refused to accept money from her." He had, in fact, torn up her checks before her eyes, and more than once, until she gave up. After that, she simply bought all of the groceries, as well as whatever else she decided that he "needed." Thus, he had extras of _everything_ , or felt like he did.

Taking Sarah's 'second favorite jacket' out of the closet, he handed it to Jane. This one was a pale green, not quite as bulky as Kurt's, but clearly made of the same high quality materials.

"You might not want to put that one on until we're walking out the door," he warned her. "You'll probably get too hot with it on in here, especially with everything else you have on already."

Jane nodded, setting the jacket down on the other side of her. She was definitely nice and toasty warm at that moment, so she didn't want to get any warmer until they were ready to go outside. "We've got to be done now, right?" she asked him, and was surprised when he shook his head.

"Nope, but almost," he said, bending down to the bottom of the closet and rummaging around in the semi-darkness. "Hmmm," she heard him say, then turned around and walked toward her, brushing close by her, though he didn't _quite_ touch her on his way to the box labelled 'Winter.' She found that she was more than a little bit disappointed, and kept her eyes trained on him intently, now that he was standing so close to her – only a few feet away, at most.

Out of the box he pulled a pair of black boots. They looked huge at first, but when she looked down at his feet, it made sense. He was not a small guy, after all, and the boots were heavy duty. They looked very warm, and very heavy.

Turning them on their side, he set them into the duffle bag, then looked up at her. "I don't have another good pair like that for snow, but I do have…" he said, walking closely by her once again, and as he had when he'd passed her the first time. He wished that he had an excuse to brush against her.

 _You need an excuse?_ the voice in his head asked in confusion. _Why?_

 _We're just… not quite there,_ he told himself. Then, doubting himself, he began to wonder… _Are we?_

Reaching back into the bottom of the closet, he pulled out a significantly smaller pair of short boots, made of a fleecy type material. They looked more like Jane's size.

"These are Sarah's… They look like they might fit you. What size do you wear?" he asked, holding the boots out to her.

"Uh… eight? I think…" Honestly, she couldn't remember. It wasn't as though shoes or shopping or anything like that had been on her mind in the past few months… and really, she couldn't see how it ever would be again. She just really didn't care about any of it. The fact that she had only the pair of boots she was wearing – which were _not_ winter boots whatsoever, just plain, black workman's style boots – and one pair of sneakers didn't bother her at all. The less she had, the less that could be taken away from her.

She shivered involuntarily at that thought. She knew that now wasn't the same as it had been before, that the chances of that happening again were remote… but it was always at the back of her mind. Doubt. Like a shadow that she just had to try to ignore as best she could.

"Looks like these are a nine," he said, checking the tag inside one of them. "So you may be in luck," he added, then shrugged apologetically. "I know it's not much, but I guess it's better than nothing."

He was surprised when she looked at him in what appeared to be shock, her mouth hanging open slightly for a few seconds before her head began shaking slowly back and forth.

"You're kidding, right?" she asked him quietly. _She_ was surprised at the confused look on his face, and before she even thought about what she was doing, she took a half step towards him, stopping abruptly when she was suddenly standing within arms' reach of him. For a second she had simply forgotten that things weren't the same as they had been between them a long time ago, that they didn't just reach out for each other as casually as they once had. They'd _done_ it, of course, but it had felt awkward. Though she kept her hands from reaching out towards him, they betrayed her nonetheless, fidgeting awkwardly in front of her. The urge to reach for him was strong, and yet… she didn't let herself.

 _Why are you fighting it?_ she wondered. The sensation she was feeling was similar to what she had felt at the party the night before, or on their way back afterwards. They stood so close together and yet, though the space between them was tiny and could easily have been bridged, because they weren't touching, it felt like there was a chasm between them. Either one of them could have reached across it, but neither of them did, for whatever reason.

She realized then why she was hesitating – it was simple, really. Her feelings for this man had already caused her immeasurable pain once – if you could call the past however many months it had been since that night that he'd arrested her ' _once'_ – and, despite the sincerity in his eyes and his actions now, it was hard to forget the feeling of having been burned so badly before. After all, she simply had no defenses from him. Just a look from him was enough to make her forget her surroundings, for goodness sake. How could she protect herself, if it came down to that again?

He was still looking at her, and she realized that she'd forgotten to finish her thought out loud. She'd asked him if he was kidding, when he'd said that what he'd done for her wasn't much. "Look at all of this… I mean, I'm _here_ , and not at my safe house alone… for a _weekend._ For _Christmas_. Of all weekends of the year, it's one of the most important ones…" To say that she was at a loss for words wouldn't be quite accurate, since she was actually still talking, but it was close. She couldn't understand how Kurt could possibly minimize what he was doing for her. Looking at him in disbelief once again, she simply shook her head.

And then he had that look on his face again, and she just knew that he was about to protest what she was saying – which he did. "I should have done it sooner… not this exactly, but _something_ , anyway…" he said.

Jane closed her eyes tiredly. She realized that she couldn't do this again with him – not this soon, anyway. Really, she suddenly felt like they were going to have to find a way to get past this part, and soon, because it was exhausting.

"Kurt," she said quietly, "can we just… _not?_ Please? I just can't… not today _…_ not after last night." Wondering if her short sentence had been enough for him to even know what she was talking about, she opened her eyes to see him looking at her sheepishly, and once he saw that he had her attention, he nodded. He wanted to get closer to her, but he wasn't sure if he should, or what he should do… contact had always been a form of comfort between them, and suddenly it felt… with whatever was going on with them… He just didn't know anymore.

 _You're overthinking it,_ he told himself. _You do know her. She's changed a little, but she needs you even more now, whether or not she wants to admit it._

Looking down at her hands, which were clenched together, he took the last step towards her and reached down to take them in his gently. He saw her visibly sigh in relief just from the light touch of their hands together, and he took that as encouragement. Leaning forward slightly, he pulled her hands gently around behind his back, where he released them, and then wound his arms around her shoulders. This time instead of tensing, she relaxed completely against him, her relieved sigh even greater than it had been a moment before.

Leaning his cheek against hers so that his mouth was near her ear, as he was realizing that he liked to do even when it wasn't necessary, he whispered, "Guess what? We're ready to go."

The words weren't anything that should have necessarily have elicited a strong reaction, but then again, it wasn't really the words that made her stop and close her eyes, smiling and consciously allowing herself to enjoy the soaring feeling inside her, even knowing the potential for heartbreak that accompanied it. No, it was simply _everything_ : the feel of his arms around her, of the side of his face pressed against hers, and the sound of his voice. It was the knowledge of the coming few days, and the fact that despite everything, they finally seemed to understand each other. They hadn't forgotten what had gone on between them, nor would they… but they were moving past it. _Together._

Whether or not she deserved such devotion, she planned to hold onto it with both hands. She may not remember a lot about the world, but she did know from her short experience with people, and conversations with the few who she did know, that most people searched for that kind of connection for most of their lives.

Leaning back slowly, just far enough to look into his eyes, she fought the urge to simply hang onto him and never let go. Instead, she beamed up at him and said simply, "Well then, let's go."


	13. Trust

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)_**

"Oh, you're ready to go, are you?" he asked her in amusement.

"Well of course," she grinned back at him. "I've been waiting for you…" As they stood close together, eyes locked together once more, she realized that that sentence that she'd meant to finish, but hadn't, actually made perfect sense on its own. When she thought about it now, she _had_ been waiting for him, in a larger sense…

 _Well,_ she admitted to herself, ' _wishing' might be a better word than 'waiting.'_

"Okay," he said seriously. "Number one rule of road trips? Pee before you leave." He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye, and she had a feeling that that rule was left over from childhood. "Do you want to go first?"

"You say the sweetest things," she whispered, forcing herself to keep a straight face for a few seconds, which was as long as she lasted before she started laughing. Taking half a step back but not letting go of him, her arms still around his waist, where he'd put them, she looked up at him and then stopped. If she could have frozen time, this would have been one of the many moments in the past sixteen hours that she would have chosen. The only thing she didn't like was that she was about to have to let go.

 _For now,_ she reminded herself.

"Really?" he asked softly, his eyes just as glued to hers as hers were to his. "That one's never worked for me before." She swatted at him playfully, and he laughed along with her.

He suddenly had the urge to kiss her, which came out of nowhere… Well, maybe not _nowhere_. It wasn't as though he had _not_ wanted to kiss her before, he just hadn't been thinking about it. Of course, they'd kissed just yesterday at the party, and it had been a surprisingly _real_ kiss considering that they'd been in front of basically _all_ of their coworkers – not just the kind of quick peck with which everyone else who'd been caught under the mistletoe had obliged.

Still, it wasn't the same. Besides, this new version of Jane, post… _everything_ horrible in her life, basically, was one that he was going to treat with the utmost care. She was both literally and figuratively now far more fragile than she'd ever been before, and this time he intended to do things right. Not that he knew what he intended to _do,_ of course, only that he would make sure that she _knew_ exactly how important she was to him. He knew that she didn't know it yet, couldn't possibly begin to believe him when he said it after everything that she'd been through. He knew that it would take a while, but he was prepared to do whatever it took. He couldn't lose her again.

 _What about you?_ his inner voice asked. _You haven't exactly had a great year either._

While this was true, his year had been rather hellish. Next to the trauma that Jane had been through, however, his was nothing. She had crossed far beyond what would be most people's breaking point, in part thanks to his own actions, just as he'd reached his breaking point as well. And yet she'd dealt with so much more than he had, and done it better than he ever could have, he knew. It was time that he made it up to her – he was lucky that he still had that chance, both because it was a miracle that she was still alive, after such severe torture, and equally miraculous that she'd even speak to him after how he'd acted.

Yes, he may have had a hell of a year, but he knew that he was lucky. This time, he was going to do it all right… especially when it came to something as important as showing Jane how he felt about her.

Besides, for a less 'big picture' reason, it also seemed like a bad idea to kiss her now, just before they started their hours long road trip. After all, she already had the power to distract him simply by looking at him. He didn't need to make it worse.

He forced himself to let go of her, though he did so slowly as he stared into her eyes. "You first, then me, then we get out of here," he told her. Then, when she didn't move, he added, "The sooner we leave, the sooner we get there. We don't want to miss _Christmas Eve_."

 _Christmas Eve_. She hadn't even realized that. In her mind, it was just Saturday and the day before Christmas. In a supreme display of willpower, she took one step back from him, her arms dropping back to her sides, then slowly turned and walked back toward the bathroom door. When she came back out, she found him standing over the duffle bag with their winter gear, appearing to add more into it.

"I almost forgot something pretty important," he said, shaking his head at himself. "Gloves. Don't know how I forgot about _those_." He grinned at her, adding, "I think someone was distracting me."

"Hey, I'm not doing anything, I'm just here observing. _You're_ the expert on winter…" she said, holding her hands up in front of her in surrender. She took a few steps toward him without thinking, then stopped self-consciously. He shook his head with a smile, zipped up the bag quickly and then sidestepped her and darted into the bathroom. _Not_ walking straight back over to her was an exercise in self-control, one which he hadn't enjoyed, but that had to be done.

Walking back over to the bag they'd filled most recently, she lifted it onto her shoulder. It was surprisingly heavy. _Then again_ , she thought, putting Sarah's green winter jacket over her arm, _we did put a_ _ **lot**_ _into this bag._ She imagined that those boots of Kurt's were half of the weight of the bag by themselves. Kurt emerged from the bathroom then, saw her standing there holding the bag, and frowned slightly.

Reading his mind, she made a face at him. "I'm fine," she protested. Reaching the table in a few quick steps, he put on the black hat, scarf and fleece that she'd set aside for him. "Good choice, by the way," he told her. "The black ones are my favorites." This made her smile at him, because… well, he was smiling at _her_ , which pretty much meant that she smiled back at him involuntarily.

She walked to the door and set the bag of winter clothes down in order to lace up her black boots, as he also slipped his feet into a pair that were not too dissimilar to hers. He finished first, however, and lifted two of the three bags onto his shoulder, leaving her with her own bag, which he had deemed to be the lightest one. Thought she huffed in protest for a few seconds, the pretend pout gave way to a smile as he stepped closer to her, grinning in amusement.

Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she stood perfectly still as he tugged the zipper on the front of the white fleece she was wearing down about three quarters of the way, then lifted the soft, thick blue scarf off of the back of her neck. Her eyes were glued to him as she stood as still as a statue, waiting to see what exactly he was doing. Then she realized, a second later, that he was winding the scarf around her neck the same way he had back at her apartment the night before with the one he'd been wearing.

First he held the blue scarf in front of her chin, then leaned forward so that he could wrap it around her, finally pulling the ends back in front of her shoulders on opposite sides from where they'd started. As he did so, he leaned closer than necessary, so that for a few seconds, it was almost like he was holding onto her. Then, tugging at the ends just a little as he'd also done the night before, which pulled her just a little bit closer to him once again, he smiled down at her. When he carefully tucked the ends of the scarf inside the white fleece, zipping it back up again, it almost felt like it had been in slow motion. At the same time, it was over _far_ too quickly.

They stood still, just watching each other and trying to determine what came next, for a few seconds. She felt warmth spread from her head all the way down to her toes, but it wasn't from all the winter gear she was wearing… well, not _all_ from her winter gear, anyway. No, Kurt had a lot to do with it.

"Oh! I almost forgot," Kurt said, walking quickly back towards his bedroom. He emerged again in another minute, carrying yet _another_ bundle, this one looking more like bedding.

"What's all that?" Jane asked in confusion.

"Sarah asked me to bring it, to make sure we had enough," he replied. _Because we weren't expecting to have a fourth person stay over,_ he thought.

" _Now_ we're ready," he said, also holding his heavy jacket over his arm. Opening the apartment door for her and gesturing towards the hallway, and she walked out first, carrying her duffle bag, followed by Kurt, carrying the two others.

Once again, they walked about as close together as was possible without touching each other, each of them simultaneously (and unbeknownst to the other) wanting to bridge the divide but not sure if they should. After all, with so much history, things just weren't as simple as they'd once been. And there was that pesky _we work together, one of us is the other's boss_ thing. _Not_ that that had stopped them all of the time so far, but still.

 _Why_ _ **isn't**_ _it that simple?_ the voice in Kurt's head asked.

 _It just isn't_ , he replied in annoyance.

 _I wish I knew what he was thinking,_ Jane thought, glancing at Kurt and smiling shyly when he caught her. She'd much rather be holding his hand then walking awkwardly beside him and _thinking_ about holding his hand…

 _So why don't you?_ the voice in her head asked.

 _I don't know… I just…_ She couldn't quite find an answer to that question, at least not one that could be formed in words.

They reached the elevator, and Kurt pressed the button for the lobby, then turned around carefully, not wanting to knock Jane over by swinging the bags on his shoulder at her. The elevator arrived, and, once inside she set her bag down at her feet. He pressed the button for the lobby and when he turned to stand close beside her, she did what she'd done the last few times they'd been in elevators together – she leaned her head gently against his shoulder. She could feel the vibration of the soft chuckle that escaped him when she did.

"Tired already?" he asked her quietly.

"No, not this time," she replied with a small shrug. "Just…" She thought about how much she wanted to admit to him. "I just wanted to," she said simply.

He smiled, letting the back of his hand settle against the back of hers. He wanted to take her hand, but, knowing that the elevator door was about to open and they'd have to let go almost immediately and put on gloves and jackets, he resisted. Somehow, the pressure of the backs of their hands together was almost better at that moment.

When she felt his hand against hers, she couldn't help the awe she that filled her immediately. How could such a slight touch make her feel like she was on top of the world? And yet, it did. It was another moment in time that she wanted to freeze… and then the elevator dinged rudely, as they seemed to do to them every time, and the doors parted on an empty lobby.

As they stepped out of the elevator, he remembered the mini-panic attack that she'd had the last time they'd walked through there the night before. He walked just far enough to be clear of the elevator doors then stopped, which prompted her to stop beside him as well, looking at him in surprise. They set down the duffle bags and pulled gloves out of their pockets to put them on before they ventured outside, along with the heavy jackets they'd been carrying so far.

"We may only need these to walk to the car," he said with a grin, "but at least we'll be warm on our way." After all, despite their late departure, the temperature had yet to cross the freezing mark. They picked up their bags again and before they started walking, Kurt glanced quickly around the lobby, then back at Jane, his eyes full of questions that he did not vocalize.

She knew what he was doing. Being the attentive guy that he was, he had remembered that she'd panicked the last time they'd walked through the lobby, and he was wondering if she was okay. Smiling back at him in reply, she nodded her head ever so slightly, feeling a rush of affection for him. It overtook her before she knew what hit her, and for a split second she felt her standard involuntary reaction, panic, take over… interesting, since it had been caused by the fact that she'd just indicated that she was fine.

But this time she kept her eyes on him, and before she had time to analyze the thought consciously, she had already pushed past it. No, the events of the hours since she'd arrived at Kurt's apartment had been a little bit heavy and certainly exhausting, but it had all been cathartic. She knew better than to expect it to fix everything, of course, but she had to admit that she felt a little better – about him, about _them_ (not that she quite knew what "them" entailed, but whatever it was, she felt a little better about it), about… everything.

 _You're doing fine,_ an unusually kind voice from inside her head told her. _Don't overthink it. Just think about right now._

Right now, it so happened, they were walking across the lobby toward the front doors of his building. She braced herself before he opened the door for her, but the cold stung her skin anyway. Whether it actually was colder than it had been the night before or not, it _felt_ colder than it had been, no thanks to a nearly continuously blowing wind. It wasn't snowing, but the sky looked like it wanted to begin any minute.

Kurt glanced up at the sky, silently hoping that the weather would hold out long enough for them to reach Clearfield, but knowing that that might be too much to ask. He wasn't afraid to drive in snow, like so many others he knew, he'd just prefer not to have to do it. Snow, despite how beautiful it looked when observed from inside, was not a driver's friend.

The two of them nearly sprinted to the car, quickly feeling chilled to the bone despite their layers.

"Do you want the bags in the trunk?" Jane asked, her teeth chattering.

Kurt shook his head. "No, the trunk's at least half full of presents, possibly more," he said quickly, unlocking the doors and opening the back door on the driver's side. "Let's just put them in the back seat." Jane nodded, opening the back door on the passenger's side and depositing her duffle bag alongside the two that Kurt had already tossed into the back, as well as the bedding, then both of them climbed into the from seat as quickly as they could. He started the engine and pushed the buttons for the seat warmers.

"Even with all that stuff on, I'm still freezing," Jane said, feeling herself shaking with cold.

"Give the heat a second to kick in, it won't be so bad," he assured her, to which she just nodded, willing it to happen faster.

It was only a few more minutes before the car was warmed up sufficiently that they were no longer shivering, and Kurt had set up the GPS on his phone to plan their route. Not because he didn't know how to get back to Clearfield – he'd done the drive not that long ago, after all, though it now _felt_ like a million years ago… the night his father had died. No, it was more because the GPS would give him road conditions and a reliable ETA, so that he could keep Sarah updated. She was, as she'd always been, a worrywart.

"Alright… it's 10:30 now," he said, "so according to this, we should be there around 3:00, if we can do it without stopping. I packed some snacks for us, too," he added, smiling proudly.

"Sounds good," Jane replied. Really, she was fine with anything, just happy to be along for the ride, literally. If Kurt was there – which he was – she was happy.

They wound their way through the city streets on their way out of the city, passing various festively decorated neighborhoods, stores and parks. In the more commercial areas, shoppers were still out on the streets making last minute purchases, as was evident from the wide array of shopping bags she saw people carrying.

She felt her stomach drop then, realizing that she was arriving for a Christmas celebration without a single gift, not for Kurt or Sarah or Sawyer. Kurt's words, which she'd been too cold to process a few minutes ago, came back to her – more than half of the trunk was full of presents. Of course, she'd had no way to know that she'd be going there before the previous night, and there hadn't exactly been time for her to go shopping in the few hours that had passed since she'd agreed to go with him. She and Kurt hadn't even really been speaking to each other unless it was necessary twenty four hours earlier, the thought of which still seemed impossible, and made her incredibly uncomfortable.

 _Relax,_ the voice in her head said soothingly. _You're overthinking it. Just look at where you are. Look at who you're with. No one expects you to play Santa Claus._ It seemed too simple to work, but when she looked back over at him, she saw that it was true – suddenly, none of those other things seemed important.

He felt her looking at him as he drove, and he glanced over at her when he pulled up to a red light. There was something in her expression that told him that something was happening in her head, but she seemed to be holding her own against whatever it was, because the smile on her lips was still genuine, not forced.

"You okay?" he asked, glancing back at the light, which was still red, and then back at her.

"Yeah," she replied, glancing down and then back up at him as he turned his attention back to the road. "Just a little sleepy." She didn't want to admit that she felt badly about arriving empty handed, because she knew exactly what Kurt would say. That it didn't matter.

Nodding in agreement without taking his eyes off of the road, he said, "Well, it was a little bit of a rough night. But if you need a nap, you have plenty of time before we get there."

"I'd rather stay awake and keep you company," she told him, "but we'll see how long I can hold out."

"Sounds like a plan," he chuckled, wishing that driving didn't require all of his attention _and_ that he keep his hands on the wheel. He willed the drive to go quickly, so they could be there, already.

 _What's your rush?_ the voice in his head asked him tauntingly. _She's been right in front of you for months, and you couldn't even give her the time of day_. Glancing over at her, he once again felt guilt creep up on him, but this time he pushed it aside. There was nothing he could do about the past now, other than to do better, and he'd set the bar so low for himself that he liked to think that he had nowhere to go but up.

"When was the last time you saw Sarah and Sawyer?" Jane asked curiously. She hadn't meant anything by the question, had simply been making conversation and was curious, but from Kurt's deep sigh she knew that she'd struck a nerve.

"Not since they moved," he sighed.

"Do they like it out there, do you know?" She didn't mean to push a topic that he didn't want to talk about, but it seemed safer to ask Kurt than to ask Sarah, who she didn't know very well.

"I guess… Sawyer's getting to see his dad, which he seems happy about. As for Sarah…" He sighed, louder than he'd meant to. Sarah had taken their father's death differently than Kurt had, certainly, but equally hard in her own way. She hadn't spent twenty-five years hating the man, after all, so to find out suddenly that he actually had been guilty of doing what she had always refused to believe that he'd done to their childhood friend had been even more of a blow to her than to Kurt, in some ways. He shook his head. "She's had a rough time." Suddenly realizing who he was talking to, he glanced over at Jane, his mouth opening as if he was going to attempt to backpedal, but no words came out. He didn't know what he could possibly say now that would help, simply sat and wished that he could reel the words back in.

Jane smiled sadly, not letting his words bother her. "It's okay, Kurt. I'm not the only one who's had a rough time this year. I know that." She noticed that he looked relieved at her words, and was amused by the fact that she'd guessed correctly at the reason for his momentary speechlessness. At the same time, she mentally patted herself on the back for not letting the feeling of darkness overtake her at the thought of her past few months. This was new, and she could only attribute it to Kurt. After all, he was the only thing in her life that had changed in the past few days.

"Kurt, I want us to make a deal, if you're willing to. Right now. As of this moment, we are even." He glanced at her quizzically, then back at the road again, but she kept right on talking. "Neither of us is more or less trustworthy, more or less to blame, more or less guilty. Because I realized that despite everything, I _do_ trust you to keep me safe. It scares the shit out of me, and makes me think I might be crazy, but… I do. Because I know that you, the Kurt that I know, wouldn't intentionally do anything that would even make me the least bit unhappy, because that's the kind of guy you are."

 _How in the world can she say that about me, after everything I've done?_ he wondered.

 _Hush,_ the voice in his head replied. _Didn't you hear what she said? You're even. That means no more of that._ The thought of both of them being absolved of their feelings of guilt, which ran so deep, was appealing. But could he manage to forgive _himself_?

She couldn't help but smile at him, because she meant every word of it what she was saying. That really _was_ the kind of guy he was. "You are not perfect," she continued, then paused and smiled at him as he pretended to be offended. "But neither am I. And I _hope_ that you know that I wouldn't do anything that would make _you_ unhappy, either. The people that we were… _then_ …"

She paused for a second, suddenly feeling tears in her eyes and sniffled slightly. He glanced at her again, slightly alarmed by the sound, but she shook her head and kept going. "…that wasn't the real us. I like to think that we both know that. That was… it was us, but in circumstances that should never have happened. But we're not going back there, not ever. That's not the person I want to be." Realizing that she had said a lot all at once, she stopped and waited for him to reply. Feeling a stray tear slide down her cheek, she swatted at it quickly with her fingertips and pursed her lips.

"It's a deal," he said quietly, completely in awe and wishing that he could simply stare into her eyes. He had to settle for holding out his hand to her which she squeezed tightly between both of hers.

She held tightly to his hand for about two minutes, before reluctantly letting it go. "You'll need this to drive," she said, disappointment evident in her voice.

"Rain check," he replied with a smile, and another glance in her direction.

 _It's going to be a long drive,_ he thought.

Jane fiddled with the radio for a few minutes, settling back happily into her seat when she found a station playing only Christmas music. She'd declared it her mission to learn as many of the songs as she could that year. She only vaguely remembered a few of them from the previous year, the first Christmas that she could remember.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence after a little while, and the next time Kurt looked over at her, he saw that she had fallen asleep against the back of her chair, her head turned in his direction and a hint of a smile on her face. He felt a smile inside him before he even registered that there was also one on his face, and it remained there as he turned back to look out at the road ahead.

The sky overhead was grey, and the clouds ahead were ominous. The temperature was still only 28 degrees, so any precipitation they encountered would be in the form of snow. He silently willed the clouds to hold the snow in for as long as possible, but he knew that despite the fact that he had yet to see any snow today, that it wouldn't be much longer. It was just a feeling.

They'd been driving across the width of northern New Jersey for approximately fifteen minutes when it started. One minute, the air was clear, and the next, tiny white crystals were flying through the air in timid flurries. The wind was blowing harder and harder, but the snow remained relatively light. Since the roads had been treated in advance of the storm, while he could feel that the car's traction wasn't quite as good as usual, Kurt didn't see a real problem. So far.

The most significant part of the drive, of course, would take them across northern Pennsylvania. It could have been worse, the trip could have been on back roads, he supposed. On each of the few times that he'd done this drive in the past few decades, the highways had always been clear, with only a few other cars on the road. Of course, he'd never tried to do the drive at holidays – once he'd left home, he'd tried his hardest not to go back.

Today, however, when he actually did want to get there, it seemed that fate was not on his side. Almost as soon as they crossed the New Jersey/Pennsylvania state line, the cars around them seemed to slow down, and the farther into Pennsylvania they went, the slower the cars in front of him seemed to go. Of course it had a lot to do with the snow, which was gradually falling harder and faster, the size of the snowflakes having increased from tiny white crystals to large clumps.

It was only then that Jane woke up, after having slept all the way across New Jersey. Now she blinked her eyes open and smiled as Kurt slowly came into focus in front of her, but then let out a soft gasp when she looked past him, to the snow outside the car.

He'd expected her to be excited, and she was – even more so than he'd anticipated. In the quick glances that he'd been able to steal of her, he saw her face lit up the same way Sawyer's would have to see the same sight.

"Hey, how was your nap?" he asked her. While he couldn't begrudge her the sleep, as tired as he knew that she was, he was secretly glad that she'd woken up. After all, now she could keep him company. Even with music on, Christmas music or otherwise, the drive got more than a little monotonous.

"Good," she yawned, blinking against the light in her eyes. Looking back out the window on her side, she grinned anew, pressing her nose up against the glass.

"Excited about the snow, huh?" he asked in amusement. It was so nice to see her so _happy_ about something. After the year she'd had, she deserved this happiness and much more.

When she tore her eyes away from the window to look at him, she saw just how sincerely happy he was to see her happy, just from looking in his eyes. He couldn't look at her for more than a second, however, because the road conditions were getting more and more serious. After that, she noticed that he kept his focus on the road, his hands squeezed tighter and tighter around the steering wheel. The traffic was moving slower and slower, and the GPS on Kurt's phone, which sat in a holder against the front console panel, helpfully told them that their ETA had gone from 3:00 all the way to 4:00, despite the fact that they'd been on the road the entire time and moving, though more and more slowly.

"So, it looks like we're going to be later than we thought…" he told Jane, trying to keep the concern out of his voice. Conditions seemed to be deteriorating, and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it. There were small towns along the road for at least part of the way between where they were just then and when they reached Clearfield, but some of them were so small they didn't even count as towns, and most of them didn't have any lodging, so they were of little use to them.

She detected a hint of stress in his voice, and she focused hard on him, trying to figure out whether or not she should be worried. Yes, the snowflakes were slowly getting larger and faster, but they were still _moving,_ at least. They had to get there _eventually,_ didn't they?

"You'll tell me when it's time to panic, right?" she asked him jokingly. Watching his reaction carefully, she was a little unsettled by the pause that came next, as he seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"You don't need to panic," he told her slowly. "But realistically, if this keeps up, we're going to have to get off the road. The worse it gets, the slower the traffic goes. The road has been treated, I can tell, but Mother Nature sometimes decides to remind us that she's the one in charge…" He glanced up at her, hoping that he looked more confident than he felt. "It's going to be fine. We just… we may have to pull off the road and wait for the storm to pass."

He could see that she was fighting to control her reaction to what he'd said, though her face only showed the slightest sign of stress. It seemed doubtful that anyone else would have noticed it. However, he knew her too well, and even in the quick glances he took at her, quicker and fewer of them now than when the weather had been better, he could see that she was chewing on what he'd said. She blinked several times, clearly thinking hard, before she began speaking, choosing her words carefully.

"Kurt, in all the time we've known each other, you've made hundreds of decisions that kept me alive, that kept all of us safe… I know that your judgement is better than just about anyone else's… And if you tell me that that's what we need to do, and that that's the safest thing to do, then I'm not worried." He glanced at her carefully, as if he wasn't sure. "Okay, maybe just a tiny bit worried…" she conceded, but they both smiled. They were both at least a little worried, but wanted to believe that it would be fine.

The snow was really coming down fast now, and their speed was now down to almost nothing. They continued to drive in silence after that, as the snow came down harder and the cars around them went slower and slower.

"What does the GPS think?" she asked with a sigh after fifteen minutes of crawling along the road, listening to a combination of Christmas music and the howling wind.

"I think that if the GPS could make a recommendation, it would be to pull over," he said in resignation. "We're still more than two hours away in _good_ weather, but we're burning through our gas and we're not getting anywhere. At this rate, the GPS thinks it's going to be at least six and a half hours. According to this little red line," he said, pointing at the screen, "traffic appears to be pretty bad almost the whole rest of the way, so something tells me that that estimate is actually going to get worse, not better."

Then, hesitating slightly, unsure how she would react despite his earlier warning, he said, "I think we're going to have to pull over and wait it out."

 _Stuck in the car. In a snowstorm._ Her mind wasn't sure how to process this. Would they even survive? She glanced at Kurt nervously, trusting that he knew what he was talking about. "Okay," she said simply, nodding. "I trust you."


	14. Awkward

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

She knew that Kurt's decision to stop along the road was rational, but she couldn't help but be nervous about the idea of simply pulling over in the middle of a blizzard – which was what the weather had turned into.

 _What if the snow just buried the car? What if the snow kept up for days? What if…_

 _There's no time for that right now,_ she told herself, and she focused on Kurt. Kurt would know what to do.

And it was true, Kurt knew what to do. He wasted no time, and as soon as the car in front of them had moved up sufficiently for him to steer their car onto the extra wide shoulder, he pulled their car as far over onto it as he could. The ground was flat, so he pulled the car far enough over that the right side of it was on the grass. He pressed the button that turned on the hazard lights, and for a few seconds Jane watched the light on the button flash rhythmically in the front panel.

Despite the fact that she trusted that Kurt knew what he was doing, she couldn't help but be nervous as he turned off the engine. After all, it just didn't feel safe to simply pull over in such a severe storm and turn off the engine. To turn off the _heat_.

"Okay," he said calmly. "There's a few things we need to do. First, in the glove compartment, there should be a bright orange piece of cloth. Can you hand it to me?" She opened the glove compartment and rummaged through the few items inside until she found it, taking it out and handing it to him. Gasping a little at the blast of cold that blew into the car when he rolled down his window a few inches, she quickly saw what he was doing. He had put the cloth out the window, and was attempting to hold it in the wind while putting the window back up so that it remained spread out, like a little flag.

"It's not much, but the point is to try to help people see our car in all the snow," he said, glancing at her for a second and then returning to the task at hand. She nodded in understanding, but quickly saw that what he was trying to accomplish would be almost impossible for one person in so much wind.

"Do you need help?" she asked him. Of course, she wasn't exactly in a position where she could easily reach the button for his window, which was on the driver's side door, but she was sure that she could manage if she shifted enough.

"Actually… yeah, I think I do," he replied. "This wind isn't exactly cooperating." Taking off her seatbelt, she nodded and turned in her chair, surveying the distance that she needed to cross in order to be helpful. Basically, she needed to lean all the way across him. Now that he wasn't driving, he was watching her closely. She would swear that he was smiling more than just a little bit at her, and when he spoke next, she understood why.

"Don't be shy," he told her. "This is nothing compared to what we have to do next." He saw her smile nervously, her eyes widening slightly with a combination of curiosity and anxiety, but his words seemed to have encouraged her sufficiently to do what she needed to do just then. In seconds, Jane was leaning across the front of him, her left hand braced against the back of his headrest to help her keep her balance. She found herself leaned heavily against Kurt's chest, and not surprisingly to her, it was not an unpleasant place to be. After a few seconds she located the button, pulling it forward and watching carefully to be sure his fingers weren't caught as the window went back up.

That task completed, the rushing sound of the wind coming in through the partially open window stopped, as did the freezing cold air and clumps of snow that had begun blowing in. Jane now sat very precariously balanced across the front of him, suddenly feeling more than a little awkward. As she began to withdraw reluctantly, suddenly feeling her heart race from a combination of exhilaration from being so close to him along with awkwardness at the strange position, she felt a hand, now free from the window, land on her back.

"You okay?" he asked, attempting to help her steady herself again as she moved back toward her seat.

It would've been fine with him if she'd stayed right where she was.

His right hand was on her back, and she felt herself moving more slowly than necessary back toward her seat, not wanting to lose the contact by getting too far away.

"Yeah, fine," she replied as she landed back in her seat, for lack of having anywhere else to settle, feeling disappointment when his hand slipped off of her back because of the awkward angle. "So you said something about what's next?"

He nodded, and as he did, he reached out and turned the heat up full blast. "I'm going to let this run for one more minute to heat us back up, and then we need to turn it off. We can't afford to burn off our gas," he said slowly. "Once the storm clears, we'll still need to drive out of here." He hesitated, knowing what he was working up to but unsure how she was going to react.

"First, I need you to remember that it's really important not to panic," he said calmly, looking at her carefully to try to determine her current anxiety level. "I know you just said you trust me, but I have a feeling that this whole thing is making you wonder about that… Maybe?"

She smiled a guilty smile, glancing down for a second, and then back up at him. "I'm trying to remain calm, but…" She glanced outside at the snow, which was already coating the windows. He saw the concern on her face when she turned back to look at him. "I mean, I'm trying to remember that I've been through worse, but… the whole 'are we going to freeze to death?' thing is a little scary."

That made him smile, because he had no intention of letting that happen. Of course, it wasn't exactly something he had control over… However, we knew a lot about the necessary precautions that would hopefully prevent it.

"I'm not going to let either of us freeze to death, Jane," he told her, reaching out to take her hand. "But staying warm is actually the next thing I was going to talk about." He took a deep breath and continued. He knew that from a logical perspective, she would understand why it was necessary to do what they had to do… it was just going to be… _awkward._ "Basically, it's going to get cold in here really fast in this weather, without the heat on. We don't know how long we're going to be here, but we need to conserve the heat that we _do_ have…"

She was looking at him and nodding, and he wondered if she knew what he was going to say, or if it would come as a surprise to her. He couldn't really predict what she remembered from before and what she didn't, after all.

"Thankfully, Sarah had asked me to bring some bedding to be sure that we had enough. I have sheets, a big wool blanket, and my old camping sleeping bag, which is really well insulated…"

Suddenly, she saw where this was going, and why he'd told her that leaning across him was nothing compared to what was going to happen next. She said nothing, waiting for him to say it, suddenly feeling a thousand nervous butterflies invade her stomach.

"So, well… we need to get in the sleeping bag. Together. We have the best chance of not freezing by… keeping each other warm." He certainly didn't hate this idea, though it wasn't exactly one he would have bluntly suggested that way. Certainly not this soon. Of course, maybe it wasn't all _that_ different from falling asleep with his arms around her, laying on the couch the night before… No, the most awkward part of it, he thought, was having to tell her this is what they needed to do.

"Okay," she said slowly, trying to remain calm. _This is weird, but it's certainly not the worst thing you could have to do_ , she told herself. _To snuggle up to him for warmth? No, it could be_ _ **way**_ _worse than that._

He turned around and began rearranging their bags in the back seat. Needing to make space, he handed her the duffle bag with her clothes in it. "Put that one up front on your side, maybe on the floor," he told her. "And you should put on at least one more pair of socks." She nodded and unzipped the bag to find her socks while he continued to move things around. After she'd finished, she turned around to find that he'd moved the bags to the floor between the front and back seats, and laid out his sleeping bag across the seats, a large pillow at the end with the opening. The sheets and the wool blanket sat on top of one of the bags, waiting.

"Okay, this is where it gets interesting…" he said, turning around to look at her. "Ready?"

She smiled nervously, her eyes meeting his as she tried to keep her sense of humor about the whole thing. "As I'll ever be…" she said, feeling like maybe she was failing at staying calm. He smiled back at her encouragingly and to her surprise, he then took _off_ his heavy jacket and boots before turning off the engine. After stopping to be sure that the doors were locked, he twisted around in his seat and carefully climbed over the center console – no easy feat for a guy his size – and into the back seat. He had already upzipped the sleeping bag, and he moved the top layer out of the way, laying down on his back. His legs didn't have enough room to extend all the way out, so his knees were slightly bent.

"Oh, take off your boots and your jacket first, too," he said, having forgotten to tell her. Nodding, she removed her boots and her outer jacket as quickly as she could, pushing them onto the floor by her bag. Turning back around to face him, she looked at him skeptically.

"No? Not this angle?" he asked, apparently able to read the look on her face correctly. Smiling, he shifted until his back was against the back seat, then added, "No problem, we'll try this way. Not sure if it's wide enough, but we'll find out." He winked at her, grinning the same way he did when he told her a joke.

She knew exactly what he was saying, that she was going to lay in front of him on the seat. She wasn't _scared_ , per se – why would she be? Still, she was hesitating.

"You okay, Jane?" he asked, worry now on his face. "We need to…"

"I know," she replied quickly, forcing herself to disregard her hesitation. This was not a choice. This was actually for both of their safety, and there was no time – or heat – to lose. With that, she climbed awkwardly over the center console, moving slowly and carefully and finally managing to maneuver herself onto the seat in front of Kurt. However, once she got there she couldn't shake the feeling that she was about to all flat on her face. To say that the seat wasn't designed to be used this way would be an understatement. Even pushing herself as far back against him as she could, and even with his arm curled tightly around her waist, she knew that this wasn't going to work. After all, who knew how long they were going to be in this position.

"Are you okay?" he asked from somewhere not far from her ear, since he was laying right behind her. He couldn't see her face, but could feel the tension in her. He just couldn't tell whether it was from awkwardness or because laying like this wasn't physically comfortable.

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to end up on the floor. Or at least, it feels like it," she replied, the stress in her voice telling him just exactly how 'not okay' she was in that position.

"So then…" he hesitated, in disbelief that he was going to be saying this to her less than twenty four hours after the party. "Shall I go back to laying on my back, and you…" He was trying to think of a more polite way to say _lay on top of me_. Somehow, even though that's what it was, it sounded just a little too… _blunt_. "…use me as a pillow?"

"Okay," she replied tensely, trying to figure out how to move herself to get out of his way. She somehow managed to pull herself back up to perch on the back edge of the console so that he had room to shift back onto his back, at which he looked at her expectantly.

"I can reach the sheet and the blanket, but the sleeping bag is going to be the tricky part," he said. "Can you zip at least the bottom part, around the first corner and then up a little before you get in?"

"Okay," she said, nodding as she moved slowly, knowing that the zipping was the easy part, but the getting in… well… _One thing at a time,_ she told herself. _It's going to be fine. Be glad you're not stuck out here with anyone else._ A smile spread across her face as the pulled at the zipper with her gloved hand, and she couldn't help but chuckle.

"What's so funny?" he asked her in relief. He knew exactly how awkward this was, and he was hoping that she was going to be able to stay calm.

"Oh, I was just thinking," she said as she finished zipping the bottom and moved the flap of the sleeping bag as far over as she could, then tried to figure out the best way to lower herself over him. "…that I'm glad I'm not stuck out here with anyone _else_. Now _that_ would be _really_ awkward."

For a split second he tried to imagine being in this situation with any other member of the team, or – God forbid – someone like Rich Dotcom – and he chuckled, too. "Yeah," he agreed, "I'd say this could be a lot worse." He looked at her evenly, then added, without a hint of humor. "I can honestly say that there's no one I'd rather share my sleeping bag with than you." She smiled, blushing slightly.

 _Is he kidding? He could be kidding._ She couldn't tell… _He doesn't_ _ **look**_ _like he's kidding, though._

As they'd talked, she'd been moving slowly in his direction, looking at him uncertainly and trying to figure out the best way to do what she needed to do. The _only_ way she could see was to stick her feet in first, and then simply lower herself down on top of him. She wasn't _against_ the idea, per se, but just… _very_ self-conscious about doing it. It wasn't exactly something she'd done before.

Seeing that she needed encouragement, he looked into her eyes and said playfully, "What's wrong, Jane? Is it your turn to be shy now?" This was a little different than kissing under the mistletoe, of course and she blushed slightly as she put her hands down on either side of his head, anchored her feet near his, and then slowly attempted to lower herself down over him. Not the kind of thing she did every day, that was for sure.

Once she stopped moving, still hovering above him, Kurt reached down to where the sheet and the blanket sat, spreading first the sheet and then the blanket over her back, as far down toward their feet as he could, and pulling it around the sides of them as tightly as possible from his angle, tucking it underneath him. Still, despite the way the covers now bound them together, she attempted to hold herself up.

Looking at her in amusement, he said, "You can relax, Jane." When she didn't, he just shook his head at her, flipping the top layer of the sleeping bag over her back and tugging slightly. "Okay, so now," he said, looking up to where she was positioned above him, their faces close together as they continued to look at each other awkwardly, "one of us has to zip it up the rest of the way. Let me see if I can reach…"

She felt him shift slowly and carefully underneath her as he attempted to reach the zipper at the lower end of the sleeping bag without knocking her over, and she moved her left arm, which was holding her up on that side, so that it wasn't in his way. Finally, just when she thought it was going to be up to her, she heard him mumble, "Got it," and then heard the sound of the zipper moving up the sleeping bag. For a second, she had a hazy flashback to the bag in Times Square, even though she didn't really remember hearing the zipper open that night. It was more the idea of it, and she inhaled sharply as she felt the sleeping back tighten around them, pulling them closer together as Kurt pulled the zipper up. This sleeping bag was roomy, but it wasn't designed for two people. Or at least, not two people with any space between them.

He shifted himself back up to the opening of the sleeping bag gradually, as he pulled the zipper up, finally coming to rest where he'd been to start with, and Jane was once again holding up all her weight just above him solely with her arms. She now had to work harder to hold herself up, fighting against the pressure of the closed sleeping bag. Their very close proximity felt extremely awkward, despite the seeming normality of their conversation only a minute before. When she continued to hold herself up, as if determined not to put her weight on him at all, he chuckled at her.

"Okay, two things," he said with a smile, looking into her eyes, "first, you can't possibly sustain that position. You're going to have to relax. You're burning way too much energy that way. Also, in order to maximize body heat, we need to be closer together." She kept her eyes locked on his, knowing that he was right, but suddenly feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

"Come on, Jane, what do you think? That you're not going to crush me? Not even close. Okay? _Relax_ ," he told her.

"It's not that. I…" Her face looked pained as she looked away from him. She couldn't explain it, and for a minute she felt short of breath with panic.

He smoothed her hair back from her face, smiling tenderly as he tucked strands behind her ears on both sides, willing her to look back at him. "Sssshhh, Jane… I _know_ , okay? Trust me, _I get it._ It's weird… and somehow, it's not weird at the same time. Maybe even a little scary. It's not _exactly_ where we thought we'd be, and it's _definitely_ not what you signed up for…"

 _But you want to stay warm, don't you?_ she asked the overly nervous voice in her head. _Because this is Kurt, who held you last night after you had a nightmare, during which you slept better than you have in your entire memory. Being scared might be justified if he was a stranger, but he most certainly is_ _ **not**_ _a stranger. Don't overthink it._

Slowly, he felt her lower herself against him, and he wound his arms around her back securely. That was when he felt her finally relax. She was looking into his eyes as if she was looking for something, until he finally saw her expression soften and felt her breathe deeply, first in and then back out slowly.

They were both still wearing their hats scarves, gloves and fleeces, so the only skin left exposed was their faces. "Hey," he said quietly. There was no need to talk any louder, since she was now so close. Despite the danger of the situation, he had to admit that he definitely didn't hate this. "You okay?"

She wanted to answer, but couldn't bring herself to do so just then. That was when she felt him pull her a little tighter, and she couldn't help but think that just maybe, this blizzard thing wasn't so bad as she snuggled against him.

Looking down at her, he saw her smile at him gratefully. "You know that I'm fine with whatever makes you happy, right?" She raised an eyebrow at him, which made him roll his eyes. "Within reason, woman," he said in pretend annoyance. All jokes now aside, she scooted herself up just close enough to lean her forehead against his chin, somehow needing even more contact with him than she already had.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered.

"Now that's where you're wrong," he told her immediately. "Also, I'll need to consult the rules, but I think that saying things like that may violate the terms of our agreement. The one that _you_ came up with, that says that we're even," he reminded her. "We _do_ deserve each other, but not in the sense of punishment. We deserve each other in the best way possible. And I'm going to insist that you remember that."

Once again, a wave of affection for him washed over her, and she simply didn't know how to articulate how much everything he was saying and doing meant to her. All she could do was smile at him happily.

"So tell me, is this as weird as you thought it was going to be?" he asked her, staring into her eyes.

Once again, like so many other times, she was simply unable to look away from him. Feeling like she was grinning like an idiot, but not really caring just then, she said, "Yes… but I like it anyway. A lot more than I expected." His chest rumbled, moving up and down below her as he chuckled. She was smiling, despite the fact that she'd said that their position was weird, and he took that as a good sign.

"You know, skin to skin contact is actually the best way to stay warm," he said to her, attempting to keep a straight face but with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head slowly. "We're not quite in danger of freezing to death yet, Weller. Don't get ahead of yourself." She said it with laughter in her voice, but he heard a hint of something else, as if she was actively working to keep her tone light.

 _Will it actually come to that?_ she wondered. _Could we actually, realistically freeze to death?_ While she would of course not choose death over that level of intimacy… She wasn't sure that it was something she was prepared to think about just then, if she didn't have to. As much as she liked Kurt…

He noticed the tension that had immediately returned to her face and regretted having joked with her about skin to skin contact then, because she looked noticeably more panicked. He liked to think that it was the thought of freezing to death that had that effect, not the thought of warming up with _him_ that way… But he could also understand if it _was_ that. After all, she had a lot to work through after the year she'd had. No, _they_ had a lot to work through, 'even' or not. He smiled at her once again, making sure that the look on his face was sincere.

"Hey, sorry, I…" he started, but this time it was _her_ that seemed to anticipate _his_ words, and she shook her head at him.

"Don't worry," she said before he had a chance to continue. "As much as I'm pretty sure that that would be skipping, well, _a lot_ of steps, it would be a _very_ easy choice. And, just so we're clear, I would _not_ choose freezing to death."

"That's very reassuring," he told her with a smile. After a pause of only a few seconds, he was chuckling once again. "It's like every high school boy's dream come true," he said softly, unable to remain too serious because what they were talking about was exactly that. He was attempting to keep her calm by acting casually, which seemed to be working so far. " _Take off your clothes if you want to live,"_ he said dramatically, imitating what Jane supposed must be a caricature of a high school boy.

She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head. "Somehow I suddenly don't mind the fact that I don't remember high school," she chuckled.

"I only _wish_ I didn't remember high school," Kurt said before he could stop himself. Really, he'd done well enough at military school, had earned honors and scholarships, but he'd never been happy. After all, he'd stopped being happy at the age of ten. After that, he'd always been worried about Sarah – who was at home with their dad – had been devastated by the loss of Taylor, and angry – _so very angry –_ with the man who he had been convinced had killed his best friend. From that time on, he'd been an uptight kid in general – the good memories from his childhood, after the age of ten, were few and far between… if they even existed at all. He'd blocked it all out, for the most part. It was easier that way.

"So what you're saying is… this is better than high school?" she asked him with a small smile, attempting to tread carefully. She knew that his life from the age of ten had been consumed by the loss of Taylor, and how sensitive a topic it was – _she_ was – not only because of the girl herself, but because of the role that the little girl had played in almost tearing Jane and Kurt apart for good. No, Kurt never talked about his childhood if he could help it, so Jane understood all too well the weight of anything he _did_ say about it.

"Well," he said slowly, "you weren't there when I was in high school, but you're here now…" He paused, looking into her eyes and wondering where exactly she _had_ been when he was in high school. He couldn't be sure, obviously, but probably somewhere already being brainwashed… her childhood had arguably been even harder than his, after all, and he hated to think of any of it happening to her – even though it was in the past, and she remembered almost none of it. Pushing a strand of hair that had fallen into her face once more back behind her ear again, and then moving his hand back to the middle of her back, he said, "…so yes, this is better."

Her eyes sparkled, even more so when a smile overtook her face at his words, and he felt happy simply knowing that he could bring such a genuine smile to her face.

"Even with the chance of freezing to death?" she whispered.

"Absolutely," he said softly. "Still no contest." He watched her smile, and blush a little, and despite the danger of their situation, he couldn't help but think that somehow, he was actually enjoying himself.

 _That's weird, you know that right?_ the voice in his head asked him, but that only made him smile at her more.

As they talked, he noticed that now that the car had been off for a little while, while the rest of him was warm, he was beginning to feel the chill that was creeping into the air on his cheeks. "This might seem… weird, I guess… but if you don't mind, I'm going to put the blanket all the way over our heads for a while, to help trap the heat. It might get a little stuffy, but we can always lift the blanket up in a little while… I'd rather have too much warm air than not enough."

"Okay," she said uncertainly, not crazy about the idea of not being able to look into his eyes. Doing that was part of what was keeping her calm, after all.

 _He's not going anywhere,_ she reminded herself. _It's not as though you don't know where he is. You're lying on top of him for goodness' sake._

Luckily, the wool blanket was extra long, so with only a little bit of scooting farther into the sleeping bag, which he accomplished even with her on top of him – she simply held on to his middle when he moved – he was able to tug the blanket far enough up to go all the way over his head. Once he stopped moving, and everything had plunged into darkness, he felt her tense up again. Even just from her breathing, which was faster than it had been a minute before, he could tell that she was nervous once again.

"You're doing great, Jane," he said encouragingly. He pulled his right hand up around the back of her shoulders, so that his hand rested squarely on her left shoulder, and let his left hand move in circles in the middle of her back. In only a few minutes she felt herself relax, and found herself repeating silently what Kurt had said about the importance of staying calm in this situation. It made sense, she supposed, since their bodies would be working hard to combat the cold, and additional stresses certainly wouldn't help.

She laid her right hand flat against his chest, and rested her chin against it gently. Since she was no longer able to see him, there was something comforting about feeling the fleece that she knew he was wearing, there under the palm of her gloved hand. "So is this what you do with all the girls, Weller? Invite them to come home with you, then park along the side of the road in the middle of a snowstorm?"

There was a rumbling beneath her hand as he chuckled, and he said, "I'd say I'm offended by your lack of confidence in my ability to think of original date ideas, but my ideas are actually a lot worse than this." She laughed outright then, noting the amount of effort that he was putting into keeping things light, and keeping her calm. He was working even harder at it than she was, it seemed.

"Worse than stuck in a snowstorm, huh?" she asked with a laugh. "Hey, this is a lot better than a lot of places I've been this year…" He was silent, surprised and unsure of what to say in reply as her words staggered towards dangerous territory. However, when she spoke again, her words careened wildly back to a different kind of perilous topic altogether. _Them –_ whatever that meant."And… hey, wait… so is this a date, then?" Jane asked teasingly.

When there was no response, she wondered if she'd just put her foot in her mouth. "Hey Kurt, I was kidding," she said into the darkness, now _really_ wishing she could see his face.

Hearing him chuckle softly in reply, and she relaxed once again. "It's not exactly the first date I was envisioning."

"Oh, so you've been envisioning us going on a date, have you?" she teased, unable to resist pushing the subject a little farther.

For a few seconds he was surprised, as if she'd just tricked information out of him somehow, and then he just laughed. "You never stop, do you?" he asked her, echoing words that he'd said to her long ago, when he'd had an equally fond look on his face – even though she couldn't see the one on his face now. Somehow, she could hear it in his voice.

"I guess I don't," she said without missing a beat, smiling warmly. She laid her head down with her cheek against the soft fleece he was wearing, listening to his heartbeat. Sighing in contentment, she felt Kurt's hand, the one that had rested on her shoulder, moving across to her neck, slowly and gently through her hair, ending up on top of her head and then smoothing her hair back, then moving back to the top of her head and repeating the motion slowly, over and over.

This time she didn't have to convince herself to concentrate on that moment. There was literally nothing else in the world that she wanted to think about. Only Kurt.


	15. Better Than Fine

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: Merry Christmas Eve, everyone! Clearly we're going to get to Christmas Day before Jane and Kurt, even though they had a head start, but they'll catch up... ;)_

He'd felt her lay her head down against his chest, and despite the three layers of clothing between them, he couldn't help but feel like nothing separated them. He realized then that putting his hand over her hair with gloves on was probably – though he couldn't see it, or even feel it very well through the knit fabric – making a mess of her hair, so his hand stopped moving and just sat atop her head, only his thumb moving ever so slightly.

Also realizing then that, no matter how comfortable this unlikely position had become, it was in their best interest to stay awake, he knew he'd better say something to Jane.

"Jane?" he said, his voice coming out a little hoarsely. "You still awake?"

When she chuckled, he felt it through his whole body, as she shook slightly with laughter. She _was_ on top of him, after all, and it was a movement that he couldn't fail to notice. "Mmmmm… comfortable enough to fall asleep but yes, still awake. Why?"

"That's good, actually, because it's really better if we stay awake. Your body temperature – well, not just yours personally, but anyone's – falls when you sleep," he told her, now glad for what he'd long since considered to be knowledge that he would never use.

"So what you're saying is, for my own safety, I should stay awake and enjoy the pleasure of your company?" she said, her left hand now flat on his chest. He could feel that she'd leaned her chin against her hand again, as she had a little while ago, as she looked in vain in his direction.

He couldn't help but smile at her question. "If you want to look at it that way, I guess so… sure. Whatever works."

"Have you texted Sarah lately?" she asked him. "To give her an update." There was a heavy sigh and she knew that that meant that he hadn't.

"No," he said reluctantly. "I was hoping not to have to tell her about this. She's… she's not going to take it nearly as well as you did, I think." After all, his sister had never really dealt with unforeseen emergencies very well. It seemed to Kurt that _he_ had inherited all of those genes.

"Well unless it's now clear for us to continue, I think you'd better text her," Jane told him seriously. "And actually, even if it _is_ clear to continue, she should get an updated ETA."

Nodding at her in the darkness, he let his hand drop from her head via her cheek, brushing his fingers across it slowly.

"I guess we should check on the white world outside the blanket, huh?" he asked, to which she nodded, her chin still perched on her hand, so that he could feel the pressure of her nod against his chest. "Alright, but just to warn you… it's going to be very bright, and possibly very cold, when I take the blanket off of our heads."

"Okay," she replied, "thanks for the warning." She inhaled sharply at the not so sudden but still marked difference in temperature and brightness, her eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the difference as the cold air hit her cheeks. She squinted as he stopped moving the blanket down, stopping just far enough down so that they could see the world outside the car. The blanket now actually rested on the top of her head, and Kurt wasted no time in pulling it more tightly around her, then up towards his shoulders to compensate for the noticeable loss of heat. Still, that left a large uncovered area between them, and she scooted up to try to make up for some of the distance. This meant that he could pull the blanket back up a little farther, which was helpful, and it also meant that their faces were now closer together.

They both stared into each other's eyes, smiling almost in awe, before they remembered why they'd taken the blanket off of their head in the first place, and craned their necks to see outside the car. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see. Everything was white in every direction. The storm, as the howling wind that they'd been able to hear from under the blanket correctly suggested, was still just as bad outside.

As much as she was disappointed to see the storm, she breathed a sigh of relief over the fact that she could now see _Kurt_ , even if it was only for a few minutes. There was just something about looking at him that calmed her down.

Even though logically she'd known that things weren't clear yet, she couldn't help feeling more than a little bit disappointed. _Not_ that she wasn't happy to have an excuse to be laying where she was… she'd gotten used to this position, actually, and she now found it rather cozy. Even so, she preferred not having to worry about whether or not they were going to live to see Christmas Day. She wiggled her way up higher against him, then awkwardly tugged the blankets up after her, so that less heat was lost in the gap between them. This meant that their face were closer together than ever.

"As long as we're uncovered," he said, "we should have a snack."

"We should?" She looked at him in surprise. She wasn't hungry, and she was about to protest the idea, when he continued talking.

"Yes," he said with a nod of his head, "both staying hydrated and eating something small help your body stay warm. It needs fuel, after all."

"And here I didn't realize I was stranded with a Boy Scout," Jane replied in amusement, to which Kurt only chuckled, reaching his right arm outside of the blanket awkwardly toward his bag. She felt the cool air rush in between them, and shivered slightly, at which he tightened his left arm around her shoulders, then pulled the blanket up a little higher.

"I'd say being prepared has worked out pretty well so far," he said, enjoying the fact that he could glance at her again after the time with their heads under the blanket. Having reached what he wanted from his bag, his arm swung slowly back around toward them.

Knowing that they needed at least a little space between them if they were going to be able to eat and drink, and that he'd need to at least be able to pull himself partially upright to drink, she anchored her forearms on either side of his head so that she could hold up her own weight slightly, taking it temporarily off of his chest. This presented a different problem, of course, since she didn't have a free hand.

"Here," he said, trying to figure out how to hand her the water bottle, only to quickly figure out that she didn't have a free hand for him to put it in just then. Looking at her with a grimace, he wondered how she would react to his next thought. She'd done surprisingly well so far, and seemed to be taking everything in stride…

 _This may be a little awkward but it's not exactly unpleasant…_ she thought to herself.

Unable to find an alternative, he uncapped the bottle and lifted the opening slowly up to her mouth, careful not to tip it too far too fast. After all, if it spilled, it would be on him, and getting wet right now was a very, very bad idea. Normally a little spill of water wouldn't be something he'd think twice about, but this time he knew better. Cold and wet in this situation could turn dangerous very quickly.

She blushed slightly when she realized that he was going to hold the bottle up to her mouth, but it really was the solution that made the most sense. Taking a small drink, she realized that she'd actually been thirsty and hadn't realized it. He tipped the bottle upright again, and she smiled. "Thanks," she said shyly.

Then it was Kurt's turn. He lifted himself up slowly, as Jane lifted herself a little higher on her arms to give him space, so that he could have a drink as well. Even though she leaned back, he had still moved closer to her, and she had to move slightly to the side for him to have room to hold the bottle high enough take a drink. When he finished, and she moved her face back to where it had been, their faces were so close that their noses were nearly touching.

They stared into each other's eyes in surprise for a few seconds, not having expected the sudden proximity, before they both smiled, almost at the same time. Jane looked away for a second, but when she looked back she saw the Kurt was still watching her closely. Without taking time to think about it, she leaned forward the tiniest bit, just enough for her nose and her forehead to bump against his, just as they'd done… had it been last night? It seemed like long ago now, and yet it had to have been within the last twenty-four hours – less than that, even.

That small amount of contact, as innocent as it was, was enough to make Jane feel like sparks were moving from the two contact points into the rest of her head. _Never mind that you're literally laying on top of him, silly_ , she told herself, but she couldn't help it. After all, their only exposed skin was on their faces, so this was just different.

"We need to eat something, too," he told her reluctantly. _Not_ that he was complaining about where he was just then, with their faces pressed together… but he knew that it was important to stay focused on the basics. Like what they needed to do to not freeze. Relaxing back against the pillow behind him, he reluctantly allowed the contact with her face to break, watching her carefully.

She saw the expression on his face when he leaned away, and she could tell that he wasn't removing his face from against hers because he _wanted_ to, but because he was right, they needed to eat something… and then, despite the fact that she loved being able to see him again, she supposed that they should put their heads back under the blanket. It was certainly warmer under there, after all.

"I have some trail mix," he said. "Maybe not the easiest thing to eat under the circumstances, but…"

"What's a little more awkward while we're at it, right?" she asked with a chuckle. Without even thinking about it, she moved her elbows ever so slightly, and suddenly she felt them, despite their layers, against his shoulders. Though it hadn't been on purpose, her forearms had framed his face, and when she moved her thumbs just a tiny bit, she saw that they were practically in his hair on either side of the top of his head.

 _Slow down,_ she thought to herself, suddenly a little bit panicked. She pulled her thumbs tightly into her fists, contenting herself to lay them against the pillow on either sides of him.

He was watching her very carefully – as he had been the whole time – and he noticed her expression as her elbows came to rest against his shoulders. Again, he certainly didn't hate the sensation. She hadn't done it on purpose, he could tell from the surprise on her face, and it took a minute before a look of mild panic mixed in with her surprise faded from her expression. She looked back into his eyes then, almost as if she'd forgotten that he was watching her. Smiling reassuringly, he was glad to see her seem to relax again when she looked at him. It could have been his imagination, but he'd noticed that that had seemed to happen several times now.

"So this mix has cashews, almonds, pecans, dried cranberries and M&Ms," he told her. "Any of those you don't like?" he asked her quietly. There was no reason to talk any louder, after all. She squinted slightly, as if she was thinking. "That you know of, anyway?" he added gently.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she replied, "Cranberries are good. M&Ms are definitely good… As for the nuts… I think I've had them all, I just don't really remember which one was which." He nodded, looking down at the bag he was holding to see if he was going to be able to pick them up one at a time. This whole thing was going to be more difficult with gloves on, anyway, so he took the glove off of his right hand.

"Hey, what're you doing?" she asked in alarm. "You can't afford to lose the heat…"

He just shook his head at her, holding a cashew between his fingers. Her eyes widened slightly, finally realizing what was about to happen, that he was going to _feed her the trail mix_ … It had been one thing to hold the water bottle for her, but this was… This was a whole other level of intimacy. She knew that she needed to eat something, but… She felt herself beginning to panic.

 _You remember that you're lying on top of him, right?_ the voice in her head asked, pleading for her to be rational. _And that the alternative is freezing to death? And that you actually don't hate this… You actually really, really like the idea…?_

She could feel herself struggling to breathe just a little bit as her thoughts overwhelmed her. Looking away from him, she could still feel him watching her, even when she closed her eyes for a second, opening them again and only making eye contact with him again very slowly. _Stop freaking out_ , she ordered herself, but it seemed that that was easier said than done.

"Jane," he said softly, bringing her back to reality. "Hey…" It was his most soothing, calm voice, the one he used when he could see that she was lost inside her head and couldn't quite get back out on her own. She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, still feeling unsteady as she looked at him.

 _Stop overthinking it,_ she demanded of her brain. _Stop!_ But the words weren't quite enough, and continued not to be able to catch her breath completely.

All he could think of was helping her stop panicking, both because she needed to stay calm in general, so she didn't strain her body too much, but mostly because he hated to see her get herself so worked up. Shifting slightly toward the back of the seat to her right and his left, he tried to lean her towards it by lifting his right shoulder slightly. She didn't understand what he was doing at first, and tried to fight the momentum.

"Just lean to the side," he said, and smiled when she did just that. Though she clearly didn't understand what he was trying to do, she'd done it simply because he'd told her that she should. To him, that said a lot about the level of trust that she had for him. He ate the cashew that he'd been holding, putting his glove back on his cold fingers, and then held the bag up. "Can you get it yourself now?" he asked.

Understanding dawned on her then. He'd leaned her over to her right, towards the seat, so that all of her weight wouldn't be leaning against her arms and she could pick up the trail mix with her left hand. Leaning harder to the right to compensate for only having one arm to lean on, she found that this technique actually worked.

"Not that I wouldn't be willing to feed you trail mix…" he said with a devilish grin as he watched her turn pink with embarrassment.

Her face screwed up in mock annoyance as she chewed. "Shut up, Weller," she said a few seconds later, when her mouth was empty.

"I can say that because you don't have a free hand to punch me with," he added, grinning even harder. Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she punched him gently with her left hand before taking another small amount of trail mix from the bag. "I stand corrected," he said, once he stopped laughing.

"I don't think you're standing," she told him matter-of-factly.

"No, you're right… this is _much_ better than standing," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. Rolling her eyes, she couldn't help but laugh. "Do you want any more of this?" he asked her.

Realizing that he was helping to hold her up so that she could feed herself, and that it probably wasn't something he wanted to sustain too long, she shook her head, feeling a little guilty. "No, thanks, I'm good." He nodded, shifting them back to where they'd been before, with his back squarely on the seat and her elbows against his shoulders once again – this time she had put them there on purpose, smiling at him.

Thinking back to a few minutes before, and how she'd simply lost her mind with panic for a minute or so, a concerned look suddenly clouded her face. "Sorry… about just now. I… I just wasn't expecting…"

Shaking his head at her, he held an index finger up to her lips. "Nope," he told her simply. "None of that. This is all… very, _very_ unlike what we would have to deal with in any other situation. After everything that's happened between us…" He just shook his head, closing his eyes for a second, then opening them to look at her, seeing a slightly sheepish look on her face. "I get it. I really do. And you're doing _fine_ , Jane. Better than fine. Most people who have probably lost their minds long ago in this situation. Don't apologize, because you have nothing to be sorry for."

Once again, he pulled his left arm tighter around her shoulders, slowly letting his finger fall from her lips. Even with a glove on that hand, the gesture hand been both innocent and intimate at the same time, and she was sorry to see it end.

"Okay?" he asked her, looking into her eyes and trying to determine whether or not she believed him.

"Okay," she whispered. _I'm never going to get over how he does that_ , she thought. _How he just knows what I'm thinking, and exactly what to say and do_.

"Alright," he said, taking another handful of trail mix and then closing the bag. When he finished chewing, he tucked the bag back into his duffle bag and said, "It's getting chilly… back under the blanket for a while?"

She looked at him for a second, trying to look extra hard to make up for the fact that she'd be unable to see him shortly. "I guess so," she sighed.

Before he moved to pull the blanket up, however, she saw him pull just his left thumb out of his glove – the warmer of his two hands, since he'd only had his right glove off a few minutes ago – and before she realized what he was doing, he had put his thumb up against her right cheek, moving it slowly along her skin for a few seconds. Surprised by the touch, but certainly not about to complain, she wondered what he was doing – besides making her smile, of course.

"As I suspected… you're getting chilly," he observed. "I'm pretty chilly myself." Scooting down into the sleeping back slightly, as he'd done when he'd pulled the blanket up over their heads before, he looked at her and smiled. "Why don't you put _your_ cheek right there?" he suggested, pointing at his cheek.

"Just for warmth," she said, and he could hear the laughter in her voice.

"What else?" he asked innocently. She shook her head, smiling broadly, and obediently slowly lowering her head down beside his until their cheeks touched. After all, why not? Compared to where she already was, lying on top of him, that was pretty innocent – and it would help warm them up, too. While her cheek was leaned against his, he pulled the blanket over their heads again.

He felt her tense just a little bit, and he leaned just the slightest bit harder against her cheek in response.

"Not so bad, right?" he asked, now speaking softly into her ear.

Leaning into him in reply, in much the same way that he had done when she'd tensed a few seconds before, her heart suddenly felt like it was overflowing with happiness. Not even sure what to do with this unfamiliar feeling, she shook her head slowly, but without lifting her cheek off of his. "Not so bad," she whispered back. They stayed that way for a few minutes, until thanks to the blanket over their heads, they did feel warmer again.

"Okay, let's switch sides," he told her quietly.

"That's probably harder than it sounds without any light," she said, wondering if they could pull off something like that, when their faces were so close together, and end up with their faces where they _intended_ them to go… Even though she trusted him, she was a little uneasy.

 _Oh come on,_ the voice in her head said. _What exactly are you afraid of?_

"Easy," he said, "Just lean back and I'll lean to the other side, and then you lean back down again."

It _sounded_ easy, but she had a feeling that the execution of this plan would somehow be slightly trickier. Still, what was the _worst_ thing that could happen?

 _You could kiss him, by accident of course_ , the voice in her head said. While she tensed slightly at the thought, that wasn't exactly bad as far as 'worst things that could happen' went, and she knew it. As much as she didn't even want to lift her cheek off of his, she did so reluctantly, then heard rustling as he shifted his head.

"Okay, ready," he said. She moved her face back toward his so slowly, that her previous hesitant movements now seemed positively rushed. He smiled to himself when he finally felt her right cheek against his. He hadn't been sure that she'd go through with it, literally blind. He'd known how easily he could have 'accidentally' put his face at the wrong angle and ended up kissing her again, and he was pretty sure she was even thinking about just that. However, at the moment, besides keeping them alive, of course, the most important thing to him was that she start to trust him again, and know that he cared about her more than anything else – even more than how much he wanted to kiss her, which he did.

 _That_ _ **almost**_ _makes sense,_ the voice in his head said sarcastically.

 _It makes sense to me, and that's all that matters,_ he told the voice, pushing it aside to focus on Jane.

When she realized that her cheek now rested against his cheek, and that they had successfully switched sides without mishap, she relaxed again. It was silly, she knew, that she was so worried about something so small as their faces bumping together when they had already kissed three times, and she had _enjoyed_ each of them. It wasn't as though she could think of anything _bad_ about kissing him. On the contrary, it was something she could definitely picture them doing again.

No, it was more the principle of the thing: he could easily have kissed her there under the blanket in the dark and claimed that it had been a mistake, apologized and they would both have laughed awkwardly, maybe even done it again, on purpose. Deep down she knew that she wouldn't even have minded… but there was something about this dance they were doing, this forced level of intimacy between them that never in a million years would have happened anywhere near this fast under any other circumstances. In a way, her circuits were already overloaded and she just needed to go even slower with the things that _were_ under her control than she would have otherwise to compensate for how _fast_ the rest of it seemed to be going.

He had felt her heart rate shoot up when they shifted, as had the tension in her, and he was glad to see that she had relaxed again almost as soon as their cheeks rested against each other. It was amazing just how much the two of them relied on eye contact for their communication, he now realized. With Jane, it had always been that way, more so than with anyone else, which was why being under this blanket was so difficult for her. As he had earlier, he had one hand on the middle of her back and one on the back of her head, smoothing her hair absently before once again resting his hand on her head, not wanting to create any additional static electricity in her hair with his gloved hand.

She chuckled against his cheek then, and he leaned into the movement happily. "You didn't text Sarah with an update, did you?" she asked in his ear.

Now it was his turn to join in laughing. That had been why they'd pulled the blanket off of them before, to assess the conditions outside of the car and then update Sarah, but then they'd had a snack, and gotten… distracted.

"What would I do without you?" he asked, and she could actually hear the smile in his voice.

"Probably freeze to death," she replied without skipping a beat, and then felt him shake with quiet laughter beneath her. The hand that was on her back pulled her tighter and the one on her head, his right, moved only very slowly away from her, reaching outside of their small blanket fort in search of his phone. He'd set it on top of his duffle bag, which was wedged between the seat and the chair in front of him, and he pulled it back under the covers almost without disturbing the blanket, determined to keep as much heat in as possible.

He had to take his glove off to use his phone, and his fingers immediately felt the cold, though it wasn't _as bad_ as he'd expected under the blanket.

As she stared into the darkness, the soft glow of his phone screen suddenly illuminated the small, dark space around them. Seeing the light coming from behind her, Jane slowly lifted her cheek off of his, even though she'd been enjoying the contact, wanting to take advantage of this change to look at him while she could. As she'd done before, she moved back slightly and put her right hand flat against his chest, leaning her chin gently against her hand, finally able to look up at him again.

Jane couldn't help but smile. It had only been a few minutes that she hadn't been able to see his face now, but there was something very comforting about being able to see it again.

"That's better," Jane sighed, watching him intently, knowing that this chance wasn't going to last.

"What?" Kurt asked, looking up from his phone.

"I can see you," Jane replied simply. "I missed that." He smiled in her direction and then turned the phone as if to show her the message he was typing, but really just so that the light would illuminate _her_.

"I see you too," he said with a smile. "And yes, it's a little bit unsettling not being able to… But you know where I am. And unfortunately, we need to conserve phone batteries as much as we can."

"I know," she told him wistfully. "I just missed you." When he chuckled as he turned the phone back around to finish typing his message to Sarah, she felt it all over. His face reappeared in the darkness in front of her and she sighed slightly, enjoying the chance to see him while it lasted, knowing that it wouldn't.

"There," he said a few minutes later. "That's done. Good call, by the way. If I didn't update her and then she assumed the worst… Well, that would have been bad." He turned the phone around once more to shine the light in her direction, and she smiled up at him. "Once more before I turn it off," he said, knowing that he'd done it just to get a look at her, then he shone the light back on his face for a few more seconds before turning the screen off once more, laying the phone beside him against the back of the seat.

Sighing heavily and turning the lay her head back against his chest once more, she wondered how much longer this was going to go on. _Not_ that she was uncomfortable, exactly, but the element of the unknown was a little bit unsettling. The most frustrating thing was knowing that since it was a storm, there really was no way to predict. Realistically, it could be an hour or it could be tomorrow or even longer before it stopped.

 _You should be used to uncertainty by now,_ she told herself, _that's pretty much your life – the unknown._ But that was why it bothered her so much, because she already dealt with _so much_ of it. She craved stability, exactly because she had so little of it. And stability was exactly what she felt whenever she was with Kurt, whenever she looked at him. He had always had that effect on her.

He heard impatience in her sigh. It was understandable, given their situation, that she was frustrated. "You're doing great, Jane," he whispered. Then suddenly he had an idea, and wondered why he hadn't done this before. While the storm had appeared despite not necessarily having been forecast – at least, not for _this much_ snow – it wouldn't hurt to look at the weather app on his phone, to see how long it was allegedly going to last. Knowing that this would backfire on him if it said the storm was going to go on for hours and hours, he decided to take that chance. If that was the case, he decided, he'd just have to think of a way to distract her. He may have smiled just a little at that thought.

When his hand left her back again, she turned her head toward the direction it had gone, though she couldn't see it.

"What're you doing?" she asked, and seconds later, she saw the glow of his phone again, and with it, his face. She smiled, feeling a tug at her heart just from the fact that she had another, unexpected chance to look at him while he did whatever it was that he was doing.

"Checking to see if the weather app has any good news for us," he told her. Hating how hopeful that one statement made her feel, she braced herself for bad news. That the snow was going to continue for… the next two days, or something along those lines.

"Okay, well first of all, there are _a lot_ of texts from Sarah… how did she type so much in such a short time?" he asked in wonder, and Jane couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, it looks like it should be tapering off in about an hour or so," he said. It was almost 3:30 by then, so even though the sky wasn't exactly bright and sunny, it would be starting to get significantly darker right around the time the snow stopped. Of course, after that they would have to wait for a plow to come through, and he was going to have to dig out the car as well… Glad that he had a shovel in the trunk, since he hadn't been sure how many there were at the house and figured that having one couldn't hurt, he reminded himself that it could have been a lot worse.

"But we won't be able to start _driving_ in an hour," she observed, attempting to figure in all the variables before she got too excited about the possibility of _not_ being there for days and days after all.

"No," he agreed, "the plow will have to come through again, and I'll have to get out there and clear the snow off the car, and around the car. The plow will push the snow off the road and make a nice little wall, too, so… Let's just say it's a good thing I have a snow shovel in the trunk."

"Wait," she replied quickly, "what do you mean _you'll_ have to go out and clear the snow? I can help you with that!" He noticed that she almost sounded hurt that he hadn't included her in the activity of clearing away the snow.

"Jane," he said evenly. "Think about it rationally. Only one of us has good snow boots. Only one of us has snow pants. You have very low boots, which the snow is probably even deeper than they are tall, and the only pants you have are jeans. You would freeze. Plus, there's only one snow shovel." Even in the dim light, he could see the frustration on her face. "Hey," he said, even more gently, "I would love to have your help, but I'm not putting you in danger, which is what I'd be doing. You don't have the gear for this weather."

She opened his mouth to keep arguing with him, but he cut her off with a look that was both stern and compassionate at the same time. " _Jane_ ," he said, more forcefully this time. "You don't have to prove anything, okay? You already put yourself in physical harm for my benefit for months at a time, and I'm not going to let you do that again. You're too important to me." He watched as she closed her mouth again, the words that had been waiting to come out dying on her lips.

"Besides," he said mischievously, "I might need someone to warm me up when I come back in."

As expected, this idea made her blush, and she laughed with a mixture of awkwardness and maybe just a little bit of happiness as she pictures such a scenario.

" _Fine_ ," she replied dramatically, rolling her eyes, but grinning despite herself before changing the subject. "So, what were you saying about us maybe not having to spend the night out here? If we're lucky?"

"I'm sorry… Are you implying that spending the night with me is _**un**_ _lucky_?" he replied, attempting to sound as hurt as possible while working hard to keep a straight face.

Grinning and biting her lip to hold back her laughter, she replied, "In the backseat of your SUV in the middle of a snowstorm, with no idea how long we'll be trapped here? Yes, I'd say there's a certain amount of bad luck involved in that."

"Hmmm," he said, pretending to think it over carefully as he pressed the button on his phone that once again turned off his screen, plunging them into darkness all over again, and setting the phone down by his side. "So you wouldn't rule it out completely, in, say, a different setting?"

She smiled, loving that he could joke this way and take her mind off of the seriousness of where they were, and of the fact that it was now dark again. Punching him lightly on the arm, she chuckled at him.

"Let's just make it out of _this_ first, Weller," she said in a mock serious voice. Even so, he could hear her smiling somehow.

"What I hear is that you're not saying no…" he replied, to which she laughed and punched him gently again. She knew that when he said 'spending the night with me,' he wasn't necessarily referring to anything besides physically being in the same place at the same time, and she loved that about him. Even though it still scared her, the feeling that someone might care _that much_ about her, and that she might feel that way about him, was like a dream that was simply too good to be true… and yet, maybe it _was_ true. She might have kissed him again at that moment, if only she'd been able to look into his eyes first. But there was no rush, after all.

 _A few hours,_ she told herself. _You can do that._ _ **We**_ _can do that._

Feeling his arms tighten around her, she allowed herself to be hopeful. After all, while she _was_ a little cold, she wasn't freezing. While she _had_ been forced into an awkward situation, at least she was with the person she was most willing to share body heat with. And though there _was_ a snowstorm raging outside, at least it was supposed to be over soon.

Yes, it could all have definitely been a lot worse.


	16. Worth It

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

They'd been laying under the blanket quietly for a while, her head against his chest as she listened to his heartbeat in the dark. Once again, he had one hand on the back of her head, and the other rested loosely on her shoulder. Even with four layers of material between them – Jane's shirt, the sweatshirt of Kurt's that she was wearing and Sarah's fleece, plus the knit gloves on his hands – he couldn't help but feel a warmth spread from his hand throughout his body. The feeling was even stronger from his other hand, the one on the back of her head where his gloves and her hat were the only things between them.

Despite everything, he felt a strange sense of peace, lying there with her that way. Yes, there were other places that might have been more comfortable… but in its own way, this was a kind of perfection.

"So," Jane said softly, breaking the silence. "What would you be doing at this time on Christmas Eve any other year? You know, if you weren't stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of nowhere with some girl laying on top of you."

"Well," he began, sounding slightly annoyed, "I don't see any 'some girl' here…" He narrowed his eyes at her for a few second, even though she couldn't see it. His tone had shown his displeasure with the idea that she would describe herself that way, however. "But if I wasn't here with _you_ …" he continued, going back to her question, his voice softening. "Let's see… it's around… 3:20 now?" He thought for a minute. "Well, maybe watching a movie with Sawyer... Maybe working on dinner, and attempting to keep Sarah from helping _too_ much in the kitchen…" They both chuckled at that image. "Or, maybe starting a fire in the fireplace, especially on a day like today…"

Jane shivered involuntarily, the thought of a fire suddenly making her just feel colder, thinking about what they _didn't_ have. Of course, it wasn't something that she could exactly hide from Kurt – even less so than she could ever have gotten anything past him any other time.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, concern immediately obvious in his voice.

"I'm _fine,"_ Jane insisted immediately. After all, she'd been through _far_ worse at the hands of the CIA. Of course, Kurt didn't believe even for a second that she was fine. It wasn't hard to figure out what shivering meant, after all.

"Jane, don't be like that. You're cold," he insisted, frustrated that she was so willing to brush off her obvious discomfort. When she didn't reply within a few seconds, he sighed heavily and took his hands off of her head and her shoulder, then started taking off his gloves. She didn't know what he was doing, of course, since she couldn't see him, but she had a feeling she was busted. He reached for his cell phone, which he unlocked so that he could use the dim light from the screen as a flashlight – the actual flashlight would have been too bright for their small space – then set it against the side of the seat, balanced so that he could see her.

With the light from his screen as his guide, he reached down and unzipped her fleece about three inches, which was basically as far down as he could go while she was laying against him the way she was. Next, he pushed her scarf just a little farther onto her neck, gently moving it out of the way so that his hands could find the bare skin where her neck met her shoulders, at the neckline of the shirt she had underneath her sweatshirt.

 _What in the_ _ **world**_ _is he doing?_ she wondered. She tensed up a little, even though she had to admit that feeling his skin against hers was definitely _not_ exactly unpleasant.

Finally finding the area of bare skin that he wanted, he was surprised to find that, even though he knew that his hands were cold, her skin was far colder. But how could she be so cold under all of those layers of clothes?

 _Because you're a furnace and she's not,_ the voice in his head told him.

"Liar," he said accusingly, "you're freezing."

"No, Kurt, I'm _fine_ ," she insisted, just as another shiver shook her, hard, at which time she just sighed in frustration and stopped talking, her face tightening into a pout.

"You are _so_ stubborn, you know that?" he asked her with a smile, shaking his head. This time his voice was gentler, as his bare hands came to rest on either side of the base of her neck.

"I believe that's what they call the pot calling the kettle black, right?" she asked, raising one eyebrow that she thought he may or may not have been able to see in the weak light.

She felt the rumble beneath her again then, as he chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it is," he conceded. As he attempted to figure out his next move, and how he could best warm her up short of suggesting that they take off their clothes, because he _knew_ what her reaction would be to that one, they heard a loud, slow rumbling noise. It was faint at first, but then it grew louder and louder. Before they could think about it any farther, Kurt threw back the blanket just a few inches so that they could attempt to look outside. All they could see was white, of course, because the windows were covered with snow.

"Was that a plow?" Jane asked hopefully. The noise was already moving farther away after passing right by them on the road.

"It sounded like it," Kurt replied, looking just as hopeful as she did. "I need to see how things look outside. If the plows are running and if the snow has slowed down enough that it makes sense to start digging us out – assuming the traffic isn't blocking the road…"

 _That's a lot of 'ifs,'_ Jane thought. Still, 'ifs' were all they had. They had to get out of there somehow.

Knowing that Kurt needed to be able to get out of the sleeping bag to be able to assess the situation, Jane found herself already leaning to her right, against the seat back, just the way Kurt had tilted her earlier so that she could use her left hand to eat the trail mix.

"Reading my mind once again, I see," he said, smiling at her with a look so full of emotion that she for a few seconds, her chest hurt and she couldn't breathe. She found herself more than a little bit unhappy about the idea that he was going to get out of the sleeping bag. She watched as he reached around and unzipped the top, pulling the zipper down about a foot and then carefully extracting himself, zipping it back up as quickly as he could. He pulled his fleece more tightly around him, just as she did with the blankets inside the sleeping bag as she watched him maneuver himself over the center console and into the front seat.

She'd already been starting to feel the cold, despite what she'd told him, and without him against her in the sleeping bag she suddenly felt much, much colder. Instead of focusing on that, however, she forced herself to watch what he was doing. As she observed curiously, he clicked the key forward once in the ignition, allowing him to use the power from the battery to push the button that activated the windshield wipers. It was obvious from the difficulty with which they groaned into action that the snow on top of them was significant, but after several tries, they did finally clear the main part of the front windshield enough that they could see the outside world.

Peeking out, Jane was surprised at what she saw. Of course, she knew that it had been snowing hard and fast, but even so, she wasn't prepared for the amount of snow outside. There were many other cars pulled off the side of the road just like theirs, at varying intervals as far forward along the road as they could see. All of them were covered in huge mounds of snow. She wondered if their car looked as funny as the others did, and the thought almost made her forget how quickly she was getting cold without him there to help keep her warm.

"The snow has almost stopped," Kurt observed, calling Jane's attention to the sky for the first time. It was true, the snow that was falling was now just tiny crystals once again, as it had been at the beginning of the storm. There was just enough of it so that it was clear just how hard the wind was still blowing, as the snow was whipped through the air with alarming speed. "Some of what's in the air is blowing off of the snow on the ground," he added. She just nodded, feeling colder just from looking outside.

"What about the road?" she asked him, afraid that he was going to say that it was still impassible.

"Well, it looks like enough people either pulled over or were otherwise able to get off the road that the plows have been able to do a decent job," he said slowly. "There's definitely still a mess on the road, but at least it looks passible." Turning to look back at her, he smiled. She wasn't going to like what he was going to say next, even if she knew that it was coming.

"I'm going to suit up and then go out there, clear off the car and be sure the tail pipe isn't full of snow," he explained, "and then we can run the car for about ten minutes to at least heat it back up. While it's running, I'll work on shoveling enough of what's between us and the road that the car can get back _onto_ the road."

Jane looked towards the road, and saw that Kurt had been right. When the plow had come by a few minutes before, it _had_ left a mound of snow at the side of the road. While it was annoying, she supposed it was unavoidable. After all, the snow had to go _somewhere_.

She was looking at him anxiously, but he wasn't looking at her. He had already pulled his snow pants out of the bag of extra gear, and was sitting in the front passenger seat, struggling into them in the limited space available. He'd taken off his fleece in order to put the straps over his shoulders, and was already putting the fleece back on over them, followed by his thick jacket, and then his snow boots, which he'd also pulled out of the bag. Her eyes had been on him this whole time, and despite the amount of clothing he was wearing, she couldn't help but feel more and more afraid for him. Would all of the precautions, the layers, be enough?

He leaned around the front seat and reached into the bag of extra winter gear one more time, removing a pair of thick, stiff gloves, one that looked far too big for him. Looking back up and into her eyes once more, he smiled reassuringly. "Jane, it's going to be okay, I _promise_ ," he said sincerely. "I'll tap on the back window when I make sure the tail pipe's clear, and that's when you can run the engine for ten minutes. Put the heat all the way up, but stay in the sleeping bag so you preserve the heat in there, too, okay? And don't forget to crack the window just a little bit, just in case." When she looked at him skeptically, he added, "Carbon monoxide poisoning is deadly." She nodded, looking unconvinced about the entire plan. It was their _only_ plan, but she hated it anyway.

Watching Jane, it was obvious that she was less certain than he was. He wished there was something else he could do, but he knew that at that moment, the best thing he could do was exactly what he was going to do – to clear the car off, clear their path to the road… keep her safe. He knew that she hated being left in the car alone, unable to help him, but there was nothing to be done about that just then.

Try as she might to list the facts of the situation to herself, to tell herself that it was all almost over, she remained unconvinced. There were too many 'what ifs' floating around in her head. Besides, Kurt was now farther away from her than he'd been in hours – despite the fact that so far he was only a few feet away from her – and he was about to get significantly farther away. She knew it was illogical, but she suddenly felt herself beginning to panic about that.

"Hey, Jane," he was saying to her. She snapped back to attention, finding him looking into her eyes worriedly.

As she forced a smile back onto her face, she nodded quickly. _Of course_ , he was going to be okay.

"It's going to be fine," he said in a loud whisper, willing her to believe it. He was now sitting in the front seat, so putting his arms around her wasn't quite an option, but he reached back with his right hand, covered by the same kind of knitted glove that hers was, and squeezed the hand with which she was grasping the top of the sleeping bag. Warmth surged through her that was completely disproportionate to the actual amount of heat that either of their hands was capable of producing just then, and for a second she knew without a doubt that it would all be fine. And then all too soon he was withdrawing his hand again, and she was fighting the sensation, illogical though she knew that it was, that she was losing him.

He turned himself around slowly until he was facing the dashboard, then turned the key back to the 'Off' setting in the ignition and leaned farther over to push the button that would release the trunk latch. The trickiest part would be getting to the trunk to pull it open, so that he could get out his shovel and get to work. But there was no time to think about that, so he pulled on his heavy gloves over his thinner ones, then gave her one more smile over his shoulder before pushing the door open – which was not as easy as it should have been, because of all the snow that was weighing it down. He pushed as hard as he could against the door, then forced his way out into the snow, which had accumulated quickly over the last few hours. It was deeper than his boots, and he struggled to get clear of the door as fast as he could, so that he could close it before any more heat escaped. All he could think about just then was getting Jane to safety.

All _Jane_ could think about, on the other hand, was how Kurt was risking his life, putting himself in danger for her. _For himself, too_ , her mind tried to remind her, but to no avail. As far as she was concerned, it was her fault that he was out there in the freezing cold wind and snow. Biting hard on her lip and not even noticing the pain, she sat up, curled up as tightly in the blankets inside the sleeping bag as she could and attempting to watch him work despite the fact that the windows were covered in snow. She heard a heavy crunching type sound move slowly around toward the back of the car, and even though she knew it was Kurt, probably fighting to walk in the snow, it sounded ominous to her. The fact that she couldn't see him was scaring her, making the sudden feeling of claustrophobia inside the car even worse.

 _You've been stuck in this car for_ _ **hours**_ _,_ her mind reminded her. _So why are you just feeling anxious about that now?_ It wasn't hard to figure out that the only difference was that Kurt was no longer in the car with her, and she pulled the blankets more tightly around her as she struggled to see through the snow covered windows, despite the fact that it was impossible.

Suddenly, from behind her, there was a loud clicking noise, and the car shook just a little. Hopefully, that was Kurt opening the trunk. It had taken both much longer than she'd expected, and yet, at the same time, much less time than she'd feared. Time suddenly no longer seemed to have any meaning.

The next thing she heard was a loud thud, and some of the snow on the back window fell off to reveal a dark shape. Again, even though she knew that it was Kurt, she couldn't help the sliver of doubt that she felt because she couldn't see him clearly. Suddenly, there was a swishing noise, and snow began to fall off of the back window in broad strokes. Finally, _finally_ , she could see Kurt, all bundled up, and already very red in the face from the cold.

She watched as he bent down slightly, holding onto the handle of the shovel, then there was a loud scraping sound and she wondered if that was the sound of the shovel hitting the pavement, or just the force of the shovel cutting through the snow. It wasn't a sound she'd heard before, so she just had to use her imagination and assume that it was one of those two things.

It was slow work, and she got more and more worried about him the longer he was out there. Just as she was thinking that she should tell him to come back inside, at least for a few minutes, she was pulled from her thoughts but the sound of his hand thumping against the window. She snapped to attention in time to see him hit the glass firmly again. _That means the tail pipe is clear and you can turn on the heat_ , she reminded herself. Pulling her legs out of the sleeping bag for the first time in several hours, she climbed clumsily over the center console, almost falling into the front seat.

The sound of the engine starting when she turned the key in the ignition was like music to her ears, and even the cool air that was spit out through the vents at first felt warm to her. She hadn't realized just how cold she was until she felt the air from the vents blowing on her. Looking at the clock so that she would know when the engine had been on for ten minutes, she saw that it was now 3:55. She know had let up earlier than expected, so Kurt had been able to start clearing the snow early, which was a welcome change. For once, something was going right for them that day.

Now that the heat was on, the air now coming out of the vents blissfully warm, she turned the dial up to _high_ , opened the driver's side window just a tiny crack, and climbed back into the back seat, back to the sleeping bag. She knew that she needed to keep as much warmth as she could trapped inside it, even though at that moment it felt unnecessary. She was worried about Kurt, and how cold he had to be outside being whipped by the wind. It had been cold enough _in_ the car, after all.

Once she had climbed back into the sleeping bag, which was much easier to do when it was just her, she craned her neck out the window to see where Kurt was and how much progress he'd made. The windows on the passenger side of the car were clear, though it appeared that he was simply wading through the snow on that side of the car, not even attempting to shovel it. That made sense, since they didn't need to drive any farther to the right, being the far edge of the road. At that point she saw that he'd made it to the front of the car, and was reaching across the hood, pushing the snow off of it with what looked like a very oversized brush with a long handle. She watched with a mixture of fondness, fascination and worry. The only exposed skin on him, a thin line around his eyes not covered by his scarf, was bright red. That couldn't be a good sign.

He moved on to the driver's side of the car, first brushing the snow off of the windows as quickly as he could, then pushing the shovel along in front of him in a line parallel with the car with such determination that it almost looked easy. However, before he'd gotten past the window closest to her, the shovel appeared to stop suddenly, resulting in a jerking halt and a frustrated look on his face. At that point, she watched him back up slightly, stabbing the shovel back into the pile of snow that he had created and then lifting a large chunk of it in the air before tossing it away. She could tell from the strain on his face that it was not easy after all, and yet he immediately bent down to pick up the next shovel full, not sparing a second to rest. It was just another reason why she was worried about him.

Once that side of the car had been cleared, she saw him begin to dig a path that led toward the road, beginning from just beside the front left tire, and going only as far across as would be necessary for one car. Again, she wished desperately that she could help him, or that she could send him back into the car and she could finish up. If not for the fact that logically, she couldn't do anything to help him because she didn't have the proper gear, she would have been out there in a heartbeat. Maybe with two of them, they would already have finished. That was the worst part… feeling like she'd failed him, even though she knew that there was no way she could've done anything differently.

Instead of panicking, she tried to focus on him, watching him closely across the seemingly endless stretch of cold, heavily snow covered pavement from her. She was doing the only thing she _could_ do, which was ensure that when he finally did make it back in, he'd have somewhere warm to recover.

 _Speaking of warmth,_ she thought suddenly, _you'd better look at the clock and see how much time you have left with the heat._ She hated the thought of having to turn the engine back off. Sitting there in the car with the engine off was what made the whole situation seem scarier, especially without Kurt there with her. It was 4:01, which left four more minutes of heat. She sighed, looking back out at Kurt again and attempting to stay calm. It wasn't working very well, and the closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 _It's going to be okay, Jane_ , she heard him say in her head. Smiling unconsciously, she pulled the blankets around herself more tightly and managed to fool herself into calming down – until she looked out at the snow, where Kurt was still working, the wind blowing against him mercilessly. Her teeth clenched again and she felt herself breathing faster. She felt trapped.

 _You're less trapped now than you were for the past few hours,_ she told herself. _He's clearing the path to freedom._ Logical or not, she felt the space in the car pressing in on her, more every minute.

 _Come on, Kurt,_ she begged silently, _Get back in here._

Kurt had been focusing on what he had to do. After all, that was what he was good at. Pushing out all of the distractions in his head and doing what needed to be done. This cold and wind, however, were like nothing else he'd ever experienced. Since he'd started out cold from the beginning and it had simply gotten worse, despite the diligent layering he'd done, it hadn't taken long for him to feel colder than he'd ever felt before. The wind cut through everything he was wearing as if it was nothing.

 _How long can I last out here before it gets dangerous?_ he wondered.

 _Suck it up, Weller. You're fine. You have to clear off the car and dig it out, or you and Jane may not make it,_ he told himself. At the mention of her name, even in his own head, his determination increased exponentially. No, he wasn't going to let anything happen to Jane if he possibly had a say in it. He wasn't going to stop digging until he'd cleared enough that they could drive out of there. _End of story_. With that goal in mind, he picked up the snow and tossed it aside with the shovel, over and over, now cursing himself for parking at the far edge of the shoulder. It was the safest place, of course, but meant extra shoveling.

When he hit the several foot tall pile of snow that the plow had pushed up against the side of the road, attempting to cut into it with the same force that he'd been using against the less packed snow on the ground, his shovel almost bounced off uselessly. It sunk into the pile a few inches, but not beyond that. Kurt Weller was not one to show his emotions easily, in most cases, but just then he swore more colorfully than he had in a long time. He stopped for a second, panting, but reminding himself that after he got through this last pile, they should be able to _leave._ They'd be bound for Clearfield once again. That meant heat, that meant safety, that meant a warm meal and a hot shower – the thought of which almost made him weak in the knees at that moment – and that meant that they'd be out of that damn car. That Jane would be _safe_.

 _Jane_. He saw her face swim in front of his eyes, and for a second he almost turned around to walk back toward the car. _No,_ he told himself. _She's counting on you to do this. You specifically told her that you had to do this and that she couldn't help. If you don't finish, you know that she's going to run right out here and finish the job, whether or not she's dressed warmly enough._

With a renewed sense of determination he swung the snow shovel, pushed through the very top layer of the packed snow that marked the last obstacle between them and freedom, and by extension, the last barrier between himself and getting back in the car with Jane. Once he finished this, he could go back and check on her, make sure she was safe.

She'd been sitting in the car for a while now, watching him working more and more slowly and yet no less determinedly. The engine was once again quiet, and while she was now glad to say that she was warm again, the silence in the car was making her shake, not from cold but from fear. The longer she sat and watched him out in what was obviously a biting, merciless wind, the more worried about him she became.

 _Come on, Kurt_ , she whispered to herself. Finally, she watched him cut through the last pile of snow, at the edge of the road. Thankfully, there was now almost no traffic on the road, everyone either having taken shelter in nearby towns or, like them, pulled off the road to wait it out. One painfully small layer at a time, he scooped out the snow that the plow had deposited, in a path wide enough or the car to get through. Every time she watched headlights approach, she watched him step back from the road, standing there swaying in the wind. _If it simply blew him over, or if a car had lost control and struck him, what would I do then?_ she asked herself. She told herself not to think about that. It wasn't going to happen… but from the time it had first occurred to her, it became all she could think about.

 _It's not going to happen. It's not going to happen. It's not going to happen._ She repeated it over and over like a mantra.

Still, when she saw him finally walking toward the car again, with just enough of the snow plow's pile having been dug out to allow their car to squeeze through – or so it appeared, anyway – she wanted to cry with relief. He was on his way back to the car. He was okay… he _had to be_ okay. She watched him stop behind the back of the car, releasing the latch that opened the trunk and putting the shovel back inside, and silently begged him to hurry. He'd been out there for far too long already.

Kurt pulled the front passenger side door open quickly, flinging himself back into the car and turning on the heat immediately, shivering so hard it was hard to control his motions. He sat for a few seconds, not moving, just staring forward. Jane was sitting up in the sleeping bag in the back seat, where she had remained to keep the warmth inside it, as he had told her to. She scooted forward in the seat, watching him anxiously.

"Kurt… are you okay?" she asked quietly.

He nodded without turning around. "I just need a minute to warm up," she said, almost as if he was in a trace. His teeth were chattering so loudly, she couldn't imagine that it wasn't hurting him. Then, after less than a minute he suddenly started stripping off his outer layer of clothing.

"What are you doing?" Jane asked, confused by his actions, and even more so by the urgency with which he seemed to be undertaking them.

"I have to get everything with snow on it off of me," he told her, his voice shaking heavily as he continued to shiver. "When it melts, it's going to be soaking wet, which will mean it feels even colder." Jane nodded, watching worriedly. In a matter of seconds, Kurt had his boots, snow pants, jacket, gloves, hat and scarf off, but was now sitting there shivering, despite the fact that the heat was blowing full blast, directly on him.

"Kurt, you need to get back in the sleeping bag. It'll take the heat a minute to warm up, and meanwhile you're just getting colder." She climbed out of the sleeping bag and moved as far to the left side of the seat as she could to make room. Nodding without argument, he climbed over the console, back into the back seat and into the sleeping bag that she had unzipped for him. Once he was inside, she pulled the blanket tightly around him, then zipped up the side and waited a minute. To her dismay, he was still shivering. In fact, he didn't seem to be doing any better at all.

That's when Jane noticed that the strip of what had been exposed skin while he'd been shoveling was alarmingly pink. Reading what must have been panic in her face, he shook his head. "Jane, I'm fine," he told her, but Jane wasn't buying it. Taking off her gloves and then holding her hands up against his face, she was dismayed to find out just how cold his skin was, even the part that had been covered and was therefore less pink. He was still shaking all over, and she suddenly felt panic descending over her like a cold, wet blanket. She knew what she had to do, having torn her eyes off of him for approximately two minutes while he'd been outside to look up hypothermia.

"Alright Weller, jacket, sweater and shirt off, now." He looked at her in confusion – which, she noted, was her first sign of just what bad shape he was in. He _shouldn't_ be confused about that. After all, he'd known exactly what they'd needed to do ever since before they'd even pulled over.

 _Confusion is a sign of hypothermia,_ the voice in her head said, and her breath caught in her throat.

 _Goddamn it, Weller,_ she thought.

"Don't make me wrestle them off of you," she told him seriously.

His teeth were chattering loudly as he tried to force the words out. "Geez you're bossy all of a sudden. What's your problem?" His words were slightly harsh but he was smiling as he shivered. Despite the argument, he did as he was told. As he did, she was already removing _her_ fleece and the sweatshirt of Kurt's that she liked so much.

He was watching her carefully, and she couldn't tell if he understood what she was doing or not. It took him a minute to maneuver himself out of his fleece, and once he'd done that, he had trouble getting his sweater over his head. She moved to sit facing the middle of the back seat, perched slightly on the console, and helped him get his sweater, and then his shirt, over his head, as his shivering continued just as hard as it had when he'd first climbed back inside the car.

Without giving it a second thought, Jane unzipped the sleeping bag about a foot and lifted the blankets that she'd tucked around him with her right hand. Then, awkwardness forgotten, she quickly set her right leg to the side of his, against the back of the seat, followed by her left on the left side of him. Setting her right arm down and leaning as much of her weight as she could against those three limbs without tipping over, she used her left arm to pull the blanket over her back and then zipped the sleeping bag back up the rest of the way. Then, leaning back down against him and lifting her torso up by her stomach muscles alone, she managed to pull off her shirt, setting it on top of his bag beside them. She lay down against him with all her weight and squeezed her arms around him as tightly as she could as she continued to shiver. She willed her body heat to transfer to his, hoping that she was warm enough by this point to make a difference.

"I have to say, going outside was totally worth it," he said into her ear. "If I'd known that was how to get you to take your shirt off…" He was being funny once again, but his voice was still shaking hard. It was the kind of thing she _knew_ he didn't mean, because he'd never try to get her to do something like that, or anything else that she didn't want to do all on her own. He had too much respect for her, and she knew it. Again, he was trying to make _her_ feel better by joking with her, knowing that she was worried out of her mind about him.

"Shut up, Weller. I'd punch you right now, except that I don't want to hurt you. I owe you one, though. Don't forget that."

"It's still worth it. And I may have to use this technique again," he told her, which only made her worry more about him.

She breathed in deeply, trying to calm down. "Dammit, Kurt. I hate you, you know that, right?" Her voice broke then, however, and she knew that she was close to tears.

He had no allusions about what she meant. She didn't hate him, not even close. _I love you, too, Jane,_ he thought.

As far as she could tell, he was still shivering just as hard as he'd been the entire time, even now that she was wrapped around him. She was about to cry from frustration, her eyes squeezed shut. Her breath caught in her throat the more she thought about the fact that she had no idea what else to do for him if what she was doing didn't work… She was panicking, she knew, but she couldn't stop. Suddenly she felt tears in her eyes, but she knew that she absolutely couldn't cry on him – if for no other reason than because, as he'd said, he had to stay dry. Moisture would only make him _colder_. She grabbed for her shirt, just outside the sleeping bag, then lifted her head and wiped quickly, roughly against her eyes.

 _I don't know what else to do,_ she thought, now shaking just as much as Kurt, but with panic, not cold.

Kurt slowly began to feel himself shivering less, felt the fog in his head clearing. What he noticed first was that Jane was clinging to him with a ferocity that he hadn't thought that even _she_ possessed, and that _her_ whole body was now shaking, even though she wasn't cold. _She's… crying,_ he realized in dismay.

 _She's worried about you_ , _of course_ , the voice in his head said.

She was surprised and relieved when she felt his arms squeeze around her tightly for the first time since she'd been laying on top of him again, which had been several minutes that had felt like hours to her. "Hey," he whispered near her ear, "it's going to be okay. I'm okay."

"You'd better be," she said, her voice shaking hard, betraying just how upset she was. "You can't leave me alone. Not here or anywhere else."

"I'm not going anywhere, Jane," he whispered reassuringly, holding onto her just as tightly.

That was when she noticed that he was shivering less, and that the car was now feeling very warm, thanks to the heat. Suddenly realizing that she was laying on top of him in only her bra and jeans, and feeling self-conscious for the first time, she started to reach for her shirt. After all, her whole torso – her back especially, along with her arms – was covered with scars that she'd worked hard to hide for months now. His arms, which had been wrapped around her back for several minutes now, clamped around her harder, his hand capturing her left arm before she'd had a chance to pick up her shirt again.

He'd felt her tense up suddenly, and, as if proof of his improving mental state, he knew what she had been about to do, and why. "Not yet," he'd whispered, and she'd hesitated. _Was he saying that because he still needed her warmth, or because he was trying to prove a point? Or was it both?_ As she lay still, wondering why he'd said that, she realized that the longer she lay there with his arms around her bare skin, the less self-conscious she felt about her scars. She felt one of his hands rubbing the middle of her back, and she cringed involuntarily when his hand ran over one of her bigger scars. He only pulled her tighter, then brought his hand to where he knew his name was, leaving it flat against her skin there, moving his thumb back and forth gently.

As she slowly calmed down and regained her bearings, she realized that her remaining tears had dried on her face, she was now breathing normally, and that, to her relief, he was as well. Lifting herself up slowly and leaning over him once again, stopping when there were still six inches between their faces, she slowly set her elbows against his shoulders just like before. Now, she marveled at the feeling of being in the same position without so many layers of clothing between them. It was amazing the difference that those two small points of skin to skin contact – well, in addition to the rest, where their shirts had once been – and how it suddenly seemed to change so much.

And then, because her mind suddenly wound itself forward by more than a few steps, she thought harder about the fact that she was lying on top of him, both of them half naked.

He felt her tense suddenly, watching a shadow cross her face as she looked searchingly into his eyes. He simply smiled up at her, the Only For Jane smile, the one that had always been a mix of devotion and love and understanding and fondness and so many other things, she couldn't possibly have identified them all. All she knew was, that look made it all okay. She smiled back at him, relaxing again, and leaned her forehead down against his, allowing their noses to press together. Her eyes had fallen closed, but somehow she could feel him still smiling at her.

Opening her eyes again, she saw that she was right. He _was_ smiling at her. And then, because it simply felt like the right thing to do, she leaned the rest of the way down and pressed her lips against his, feeling him kiss her back without a second's hesitation. It was different that any of their previous three kisses - maybe because of what they'd just been through, combined with the fact that they didn't have an audience this time, like their third kiss, or because it wasn't their first time, as it had been outside his apartment building, nor was there the frustration of having been unceremoniously banned from the FBI building, as she'd felt momentarily when he'd kissed her for the second time... This kiss took its time, ending breathlessly.

Even though she'd kissed him immediately after realizing that they were laying there without shirts on, she hadn't put the two together. As she leaned back to catch her breath, however, that was when she suddenly did, for a second she froze, opening her eyes to look down at him, slightly panicked and not sure what to expect. But he just smiled back at her, that same smile yet again, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then reached over with his right hand and picked up the shirt that she'd stripped off so quickly. Consulting the tag for the right way to hold it, he then held it out for her so that she could slip her head through without having to use her arms. After that, of course, she head to lean away from him and get her arms back thorough the holes before she could pull the shirt down over her. As she did, he scooted himself back, slowly sitting up but making sure not to let her lose her balance. As a result, less than a minute later she sat straddled on his lap, his legs still extended in front of him. She handed him his shirt as well, allowing him to take over. They also replaced their middle layers – their sweatshirt and sweater, respectively, then adding their fleeces on top.

Still straddled on his lap, she simply leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder as he pulled his arms around her tightly. "Let's get going," he said. "We should be there in an hour or so."

Nodding against his shoulder, she then sat up slowly and climbed off of his lap, unfolding her legs so that she could climb back into the front seat.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" she asked him, suddenly wondering if she should take a turn.

He smiled at her and nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm fine. And getting hungry, so let's get going." As she settled into her seat and buckled her seatbelt, he climbed back into his seat as well, glancing at her again as he clicked his seatbelt into place.

"Do we have enough gas to last us?" she asked, keeping her eyes focused on him. It was already getting dark, as the time ticked up to 5:00.

"We should," he replied, "but we'll stop at the next chance we get and fill up, just to be sure." That seemed like the best idea to both of them just then.

She felt incredibly far away from him then, sitting all the way across the center console from after lying on top of him for the past few hours. Unable to help but watch him, she turned in her chair and lay her left cheek against the seat, pulling her legs up to curl them up on the seat beside her.

He had to force himself to look away from the smile on her face, and to keep from reaching out to her. Having sent a text to Sarah to let her know that they were no longer stuck, and were now on their way once more, he returned to the task at hand – getting them safely to Clearfield. Knowing that he needed to use both of his hands on the wheel, as the road was bound to be slippery without warning, he took one last look at her, smiling, and then shifted the car into Drive. They had another hour or so to go, assuming the roads were alright and the weather held out.

The tiny ice crystals that had been pelting him in the face outside were still blowing in the wind, but at least conditions hadn't gotten any worse. Driving through the path he'd cleared through the snow, he eased back up onto the road, his eyes peeled for the next gas station. Glancing at Jane again for just a fraction of a second, he saw that she had already fallen asleep. He smiled to himself, warmed by the knowledge that this time, he hadn't failed her.


	17. What We Had To Do

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)_**

The roads were slick, but passable, and Kurt gripped the steering wheel with both hands as he drove on through the gathering darkness. He supposed it could have been worse, all things considered. He could have had to clear away the snow in the darkness, as the temperatures dropped even farther after the sun had set. And yes, it would have been worse if they'd been stuck in the car overnight, especially since sleeping lowered your body temperature, which would have meant they'd have had to try to stay awake all night and then would have been exhausted on top of everything else.

He allowed himself to glance at Jane for a fraction of a second, then forced his eyes back to the road. She was still asleep, her head still leaned against the seat so that she faced him. It was strange that she was so far away. After the last few hours, it was strange to have _any_ space between them whatsoever, and he had to admit that in a way, despite the whole 'danger of freezing to death' and possible hypothermia and all that, he almost missed the forced closeness with her. Never mind that it had yet to be twenty-four hours since the party had even _started_ back at the NYO, before which they'd had almost nothing to say to each other that hadn't been work related… a lot sure had happened in those less than twenty-four hours.

The landmarks leading up to Clearfield began to appear in the shadows, though most were obscured by a thick blanket of snow. Of the few times he'd made this trip since he'd left for good while still a teenager, this was the first time he'd ever felt even a little bit glad to be nearing his destination. There were a complicated jumble of feelings rising inside him, to be sure, but at least they weren't _all_ negative. After all, he was looking forward to seeing Sarah and Sawyer. It had been strange without them living with him these past months since Sarah had abruptly decided to move to Portland.

Besides seeing his sister and nephew, however, he was mainly looking forward to arriving safely at their destination, being inside a house where he knew that they would have the basic necessities and that, if another storm blew through, they wouldn't be in danger of freezing to death. That possibility only a few hours ago had been a little too close for comfort.

And yet, it would be a lie if he said that he wasn't the least bit grateful to Mother Nature. While yes, being stranded in a blizzard, relatively short though it had been, had been scary, and things could have easily gone badly with only a few changes in their circumstances, those few hours together in the car had undoubtedly changed the relationship that he had with Jane. It had brought them closer, no questions asked.

At least… there was no doubt in _Kurt's_ mind that it had brought them closer together. From what he knew of Jane, and how she'd acted, he was assuming that she at least hadn't hated sharing a sleeping bag with him. He smiled at the thought of the last few hours that they'd spent pressed together, and of the kiss that she'd initiated. Yes, it was safe to assume that he did know how she felt about him.

Really, the main reason why he felt impatient to arrive at his dad's old house was that he wanted to be out of the car and to be able to get closer to Jane again, even if that simply meant standing next to her. After all, he didn't want her to think that he only wanted her that close to him when they were in danger of freezing to death… and after they'd been pressed so close together, even the small distance that was now between them felt like a vast ocean.

For a moment, he contemplated how much things had changed since the last time he'd made this drive. When he'd last driven to Clearfield, with Sarah in the passenger seat, he'd been more than a little bit out of his mind. His father's deathbed confession had still been ringing in his ears – that he had, in fact, killed Taylor Shaw, and that he'd buried her "under the fort."

Kurt shivered as he thought back to that night, to how absolutely overwhelmed he had been, emotionally overloaded and far past his breaking point. It had hurt to think about that night for a long, long time, but little by little, in random moments here and there since he had finally learned the truth about Jane, he had begun to unpack the emotions that had surrounded the events that had unfolded far too quickly back then. He was in no way finished doing so, and maybe he never would be. It was only now that he realized that Sarah may have been right. Maybe one last stay in the house where so many things haunted him would help him finally be free of the childhood that haunted him to that day.

 _Maybe_.

Jane stirred and opened her eyes about five minutes before they reached the house. They were just passing by the sign at the edge of town that read _Clearfield_.

Her eyes widened as they saw the sign, and she was suddenly completely awake. "Are we there?" she asked, sitting up straight and peering into the darkness outside the car in an attempt to get a look at their surroundings. In the dark, however, it was hard to make out more than shadowy shapes in the light thrown just beyond the road by the car's headlights. Everything was snow covered, and it was obvious that the plows hadn't worked as hard here as they had on the highways. Creeping slowly down a slippery road, they made careful but steady progress, approaching a neighborhood that had clearly been around for thirty or more years. Newer developments had been built up around it, but when Kurt slowed the car at a stop sign, turning right off of the main road onto a street of modest homes, Jane felt herself getting nervous. They were almost there.

She was excited to see where Kurt had grown up, and yet nervous at the same time. Kurt's childhood was so very intertwined with the now larger than life Taylor Shaw, and it was hard to separate the two. After spending so long thinking that she _was_ Taylor, the fact that Bill Weller had actually killed the girl twenty-five years ago couldn't quite erase the way Jane felt when she heard that name. There was a mix of so many emotions, none of which she felt like she actually had a right to – after all, it wasn't _her_ childhood, it was Kurt's. She had never been there, hadn't known him back then… even though she had heard so many stories and seen so many pictures, she _felt_ like she'd been there. Even though so many people had worked so hard to convince her that she'd grown up there.

They pulled up in front of a smallish sized house that looked a lot like the others on the street. Two stories, a garage, the exterior of the house having seen better days. The front porch light was on, which set it apart from most of the other houses on the street, which had been blanketed with a thick covering of snow and were completely dark. Kurt turned and looked at Jane, who was looking out the window on her side at the house. His eyes traveled slowly to the house as well, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. The last time he'd been here…

 _It doesn't matter_ , he told himself. _You're here now. You're not that person anymore. Neither of you are. You know the truth…_

"Hey," he heard Jane say, and he looked at her to see that she was focused on him intently. "You okay?" She reached out her left hand toward him tentatively, just barely laying it on his right arm. He had to think about it for a second, to consciously clear his mind in order to know whether he _was_ okay.

"I'm glad you're here, Jane," he told her, which both was and wasn't an answer to her question. He hadn't said either _yes_ or _no,_ so in a way he _hadn't_ answered her question. At the same time, his words told her more than she'd expected. She knew very well that coming back here wouldn't have been easy for him. Nothing associated with Clearfield or Taylor Shaw or any part of his childhood _was_ easy for him. That much she knew for sure. At the same time, because of their shared past and the effective job that Sandstorm had done of convincing both of them that she was Taylor Shaw, Jane had become almost like a bridge between his past and his present, someone for him to hold onto for strength when faced with the situation, even while, in a way, she was part of what made the whole thing so complicated in the first place.

She watched him for a few long seconds, her eyes searching his. Despite what might have been lingering awkwardness, she felt none – only the warmth of his gaze, their eyes holding each other steady. They heard a noise and the front door opened, revealing two silhouettes, Sarah's and Sawyer's, framed against the warm light behind them in the house, their faces illuminated slightly by the dim porch light.

Jane turned back to look at Kurt again, suddenly feeling a little nervous about being there. She was at his house for Christmas… what did that say to his sister and nephew? She bit her lip, feeling unsure, and of course he caught the change in her expression right away.

"Shall we?" he asked, his smile widening. "Or… would you rather stay in the car?"

"Very funny," she replied, rolling her eyes. "The car, not so much. Though I'm not one hundred percent against the sleeping bag," she told him mischievously. He couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"We'll just have to see how it goes, I guess," he told her, shaking his head at her as he pulled his heavy jacket back on. It had mostly dried out from earlier, and after all, they'd only be outside for as long as it took to get their things out of the car and into the house. Putting his hand on the door handle, he asked, "Alright, ready?" She nodded, and they both pushed on the handles on their doors at the same time. The difference, however, was the Jane's door could only open about six inches – the car was pulled too closely up against the snowbank at the edge of the road.

Kurt was climbing out of the car when he saw what had happened. "Oh, sorry, Jane," he called with a chuckle. "Let me move the car." He started to climb back in." But Jane had already closed her door and was attempting to pull herself feet first over the console in the middle, towards Kurt's side. Seeing that she was having a little trouble, he bent down and reached his hands out to her, to pull her through. She took them gratefully, thinking that it was a nice excuse. After all, it had been too long since he'd had an excuse to hold onto her.

When he took her hands to help pull her gently over the console, she once again felt the electricity begin at her fingertips and radiate through her body within a few seconds. Because of that, she couldn't help the goofy smile on her face when he finally pulled her up to stand, finally out of the car and suddenly standing close in front of her.

"Hey," he said, looking into her eyes and smiling, steam escaping from their mouths as they talked or breathed as a sign of just how cold it was outside.

"Hi," she replied, equally transfixed.

"We should get the bags and get inside," he said, reluctantly letting go of her hands as she nodded, knowing it was the truth but hating it anyway. She nodded and stepped around him, opening the back door to begin taking their things out, as Kurt leaned across the front seat to get Jane's bag from the floor on the far side. With their arms full of bags and bedding, they closed the car doors, carefully making their way towards the front door up a very narrow path that had been shoveled in the mounds of snow several feet tall that covered the driveway. It looked like Sarah's car wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Kurt walked first up the path, Jane behind him. After so long in the car – the sleeping bag, mostly – she felt the foot or two that stretched between the two of them acutely. When they reached the porch, the outer door flew open and Sarah practically flung herself at Kurt. "Oh my God! I was _so worried_ about you!" she exclaimed, holding onto him tightly for what seemed like an eternity. The only thing he could think, besides the fact that he was equally thankful to have made it to safety, of course, was that he wished he had an excuse to hang onto Jane that tightly, and for that long. _No, for longer_ , he thought as Sarah finally released him.

Jane watched the exchange from behind the Weller siblings. It was bittersweet, she supposed, because as beautiful as it was to watch an exchange that was so genuine and heartfelt after living through the very real possibility that they would freeze to death, she only felt colder and more alone, standing there behind him.

"Come in, come in, you two," Sarah said quickly, releasing Kurt and nearly pulling him, and then Jane, into the house. Closing the door with lightning quickness against the cold outside, Sarah had Jane in a tight hug before Jane had a chance to consider how to greet her. Kurt's sister had leaned forward with and pulled her in much more tightly than expected. "I'm so glad you guys are okay," she said breathlessly. Jane found herself looking over her shoulder at Kurt, her eyes wide with surprise and her face revealing just how very unexpected this was. Jane wasn't panicking, exactly, but she also obviously wasn't comfortable. Kurt just grinned at her, and as she focused on him, she felt herself relax slightly. It also helped that Sarah released her, and she could step to the side, out of the way, wishing that she could fade into the background. Then it was Sawyer's turn to hug his uncle, which was really more of a body slam that ended with the boy's arms wrapped around Kurt. It was obvious that the two had missed each other.

"You guys must be _freezing_ ," Sarah gushed, leading them down the hall and into a small kitchen. "Sit down. The water's hot. What can I get you to drink? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?"

"What's good here?" Kurt asked Sawyer, his face completely serious. Despite the fact that he could easily have rolled his eyes and claimed to be too old for his uncle's jokes, Sawyer beamed at him, laughing.

"Hot chocolate, of course," he told him with a laugh and a shake of his head.

"Okay, then, hot chocolate it is," Kurt replied, then looked at Jane.

"Jane?" Sarah asked.

Jane was standing back against the wall, once again attempting to be invisible and out of the way of this family reunion. She was watching Kurt with Sawyer, and had just been thinking once again about how good he was with his nephew, how lucky he was to have family, even if theirs was a small one. She was also thinking of what a relief it was to be out of the car and not to be freezing, while simultaneously feeling like somehow, she _missed_ being in the car. It was crazy, she knew, except that at least in the car, Kurt hadn't felt like he was so far away from her, like he did now. Across the room might as well have been across the galaxy.

Jane focused her attention on Sarah, smiling gratefully. "Oh, anything is fine," she said with a shake of her head. "Whatever's easy."

"Do you want to have hot chocolate with us?" asked Sawyer excitedly, turning his attention to Jane.

She smiled at his infectious enthusiasm. "Sure, that's a great idea," she told him.

Kurt was watching her carefully, despite conversing with his sister and nephew. He could see that she was tense, even though she was working hard not to show it. When she looked up at him and their eyes met, he suddenly felt like there was some sort of magnetic power that was trying to draw him back towards her.

"Sit down, everyone," Sarah said, herding them toward the same old wooden table in the middle of the room where Sarah and Kurt had sat as kids.

Sarah was already pouring steaming water into mugs, and then stirring the contents. Kurt looked up at her warily, wondering if her hot chocolate making skills were any better than her cooking. _Surely_ it wasn't possible to mess up hot chocolate…

Sawyer plopped himself down in a chair and looked up at his mom eagerly. Kurt saw that Jane was hanging back, and he stepped closer to her, putting his hand gently on the middle of her lower back to steer her toward the table.

"Come on," he whispered, sensing her hesitation. As soon as he did, she felt herself leaning into his touch, and felt the pressure on her back increase. He steered her toward the nearest chair, across the table from Sawyer, and stood slightly behind her and to the side. As she settled into the chair, she felt him lay his hand gently on her shoulder, and she breathed deeply.

 _What's happening to me?_ she wondered. She couldn't remember ever feeling so… What _was_ it, anyway?

Sarah set the mugs down in front of Jane and Kurt, and then Sawyer, who blew into his mug excitedly, before sitting down in one of the two remaining chairs. Of course, she noticed how close her brother was staying to Jane, and the fact that his hand was on her shoulder. _Interesting_ , she thought. _I guess things are finally better between them._ She said nothing, however. From the looks of things, it was still pretty early for them. So for now, she simply smiled. It was about time, after all.

Kurt felt Sarah watching him, and knew that the fact that his hand was on Jane's shoulder had not escaped her attention. He reached over and pulled the one remaining chair towards him, momentarily letting go of Jane. However, once he'd settled, he reached for her again, this time his left hand landing to the right of her left shoulder, so that his thumb rested on the back of her neck.

She felt herself blushing, feeling far too much like the center of attention. The hot chocolate was still too hot to drink, and despite how warm the house was or the fact that she'd opted to keep her fleece on, she shivered.

"Uncle Kurt, I was afraid you were going to miss Christmas Eve!" Sawyer exclaimed.

"We thought for a while maybe we were going to miss it, too, buddy," Kurt told him. "But a little snow wasn't going to stop us."

"A little snow, huh?" Sarah scoffed, and Kurt chuckled.

"Yeah, well…" he started. He wasn't about to tell her how close he'd come to hypothermia, of course. Feeling Jane shift toward him just the tiniest bit under his hand, he increased the pressure on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb against the back of her neck. "It turned out fine."

Sarah was shaking her head at them. "Thank goodness, you guys. You scared me," Sarah told them, her eyes widening and she shook her head. Jane took a sip of her hot chocolate, trying not to make eye contact. She admired the way that Kurt just smiled at her calmly.

"Sarah, we're _fine_ , okay? We did what we had to do, and we're safe." Even though he'd been referring to pulling the car over, and had been directing the words at Sarah, he immediately regretted his choice of words as he felt Jane tense up under his fingers.

 _We did what we had to do_. The words echoed in Jane's head. Of course, what he'd said wasn't _wrong_. They _had_ had to do what they did – to climb into the sleeping bag together to stay warm – and yet, there was something about hearing it said that way that stung, that negated the _rest_ of it… because there had been more to it, more than just what they'd _had_ to do. Or at least… _she'd_ thought that there had been. She felt herself stiffen, even though she told herself that she was being ridiculous, even though she felt his grip on her shoulder tighten slightly and his thumb moving on her neck.

 _Nice one, Weller_ , he thought in annoyance at himself. _Way to put your foot in your mouth._ He tried to think of an excuse to talk to Jane alone for a minute, but they were all sitting and drinking their hot chocolate, and nothing came to him.

"So, what can I make for dinner?" Kurt asked, hoping to save them from an evening of Sarah's cooking while also changing the subject. "Or did you guys eat already?"

"Nope, we waited for you," Sarah replied. "I think Sawyer has some thoughts on what he wants to eat…" she added.

"Spaghetti!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"He's been talking about your spaghetti since we moved," Sarah explained, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry, but you just don't make it right, mom," Sawyer told her apologetically.

Kurt snorted in amusement, all the while keeping up the steady movement of his thumb against Jane's neck. Jane said nothing, simply sipped her hot chocolate and watched the conversation unfold around her. She felt both part of the group and also completely separate from them, and it was hard to reconcile the two feelings. Really, she didn't know _what_ to feel.

"Alright, well, if it's okay with your mom, I'll make spaghetti for dinner, _if_ you make sure everything around here is cleaned up. Including that room you're sleeping in – which I'm guessing is your mom's old room, right?" Kurt asked him. Sarah flashed a grateful smile at him.

"I've been trying to get him to clean that up _all day_ ," she said, "so _that_ would be great."

"Okay, okay, I'm going…" Sawyer said, suddenly slowing down and acting more his age than the excited younger kid he'd been acting like since they'd arrived. Kurt and Sarah both grinned as Sawyer dragged himself dramatically from the room.

"And I have a few things to finish wrapping, so I'll leave you two to it for a little bit," Sarah said, smiling devilishly at her brother. If she didn't know better, she'd think that he looked relieved at the mention of being alone with Jane. She couldn't begrudge him that, though. Something was obviously happening between them, because up until yesterday, there had been no plan for her to come with him. "Be good, you two," she grinned as she left the room, following Sawyer towards the stairs.

As soon as she had walked upstairs, his hand left her neck and he used both hands to turn her chair around to face his. "Jane," he said seriously, "that came out wrong. You know that, right?" She nodded, but didn't reply. Even though she did _know_ that he hadn't meant a single thing by what he'd said, and that it had been factually correct to say that they'd done what they'd had to do, she also knew exactly why he was apologizing, and she appreciated it. She'd been feeling like the bottom had dropped out of her stomach ever since then, even though she'd told herself a thousand times already how silly that was.

Leaning forward until their foreheads touched, his hands went up to her cheeks. His thumbs moved gently back and forth against her cheekbones, and he simply listened to her breathing for several minutes. "It's been quite a day, hasn't it? Or, a couple days, really?" he asked.

Her eyes had closed, as a conflicting mix of emotion had overwhelmed her, and she simply nodded gently between his hands.

"I'm sorry," he whispered urgently, then felt her head shake from side to side.

"Thanks," she replied quietly, "and I know that you didn't mean it that way… but it did sting a little. Then again, I don't know how to feel about _anything_ right now…"

"Fair enough," he said, slowly lifting his forehead off of hers and kissing the spot where his head had been a moment before. His hands slowly left her face, dropping down to her hands in her lap and clasping them gently. "I'm going to make some spaghetti for us, okay?" he asked. "Do you want to help?" When she smiled up at him uncertainly, he added in a whisper, "Spaghetti is one of the easiest things in the _world_ to make. Only Sarah could manage to ruin spaghetti." She couldn't help him laugh with him then.

"Okay," she replied, smiling shyly at him.

"Let's go see what she was in the way of ingredients, if she even has what we need," he said quietly, looking into her eyes. He pushed his chair back and stood up slowly, tugging her up with him and then only very slowly letting go of her hands. As she stood up to follow him, she picked up her hot chocolate, and carried it with her as she followed him toward the refrigerator.

As he opened the door and peered inside, she leaned against the counter, taking another sip from her mug and holding it with both hands, still trying to absorb as much warmth as she could. She felt like she might never be truly warm again.

Kurt turned back toward her holding a package of hamburger, setting it on the counter next to a package of spaghetti noodles that had obviously been put there for this very meal. Opening a lower cupboard out of habit, left over from the knowledge of where pots and pans had been kept when he was a child, he took out both a skillet and a saucepan. He set the skillet on the stove, and walked around Jane to the sink with the saucepan, filling it with water and walking back to the stove. He turned on two of the burners, then opened the package of meat and emptied it into the skillet. Again reaching into a drawer simply out of habit left over from his childhood, he pulled out a spatula and began to break up the meat, adjusting the temperature down slightly and then laying the spatula down for the moment.

"There," he said, looking at her and smiling, "time for a break." When she looked at him in confusion, he added, "There's nothing else to do until the water boils and the meat is ready to be stirred, which will take a few minutes."

"Oh, okay," she replied. She was watching him carefully, and once their eyes locked onto each other, there was no looking away. He stood and watched her from in front of the stove for several seconds before realizing that he didn't have to stand so far away from her. Then again, he didn't know how close she _wanted_ him to be…

 _Yes you do,_ the voice in his head told him. _Try going closer and see what happens… because it seems pretty unlikely that she wants you farther away…_

Deciding that his inner voice probably had a point, he took a few slow steps toward her, his eyes not leaving hers, and then, not wanting to go too close too fast, he stopped. There were still at least two steps left between them.

The closer he got to her, the stronger the pull she felt between them. Now that they weren't forced into such a tiny space as the car, or, even tinier, the sleeping bag, she didn't know what to do with the space between them. She didn't like being so far away from him, but she didn't know what to do about it… after all, she didn't know what they were to each other, or what _he_ was thinking…

 _You're overthinking it_ , the voice in her head assured her. _It doesn't have to be this complicated._ Still, she stood and stared at him as he stood in front of her, so close and yet still so far away.

The loud sizzling sound of the meat broke the trance they both seemed to be under, and Kurt was the one to break eye contact first. He realized only then that he needed to double back to the stove to stir the meat in the pan, and he cursed himself for having stopped short of her. Looking into her eyes, he _thought_ that she felt the same way as him, but it was impossible to be sure. The look on her face seemed both peaceful and desperate at the same time, a combination that didn't seem like it would have made sense. With Jane, however, it did.

He stepped back toward the stove and picked up the spatula, pushing the meat around the breaking it into smaller pieces. "Ready to help?" he asked, looking back at her with a calm smile.

It was official – she didn't know how to act around him anymore. Yesterday at work things had been what had passed for normal recently, meaning that they'd barely spoken, at the party they'd acted almost like a couple, then in the car, well… and now? Now that the various situations that seemed to make some kind of sense were in the past, what did she do now? She just didn't know. The only thing that she _did_ know was that felt like there was a million miles between them, instead of four or five steps across the kitchen of his childhood house.

Slowly she stepped forward in his direction, not wanting to look as eager to be close to him as she felt. Looking down, suddenly self-conscious, she took two more slow steps, only looking back up at him when she took the last step to close the gap between them.

She didn't know why she was suddenly nervous – his eyes were just as kind as the Kurt that she remembered from back at the beginning of everything, the same one who had suddenly re-emerged the night before… but maybe _that_ was what made her nervous, because he could turn from this Kurt into the one who had arrested her, who'd sent her to be tortured, who spent weeks acting as though she didn't exist…

 _No,_ the voice in her head intervened. _You have an agreement with him not to do this. Focus on now. Nothing else._

He watched as a troubled look seemed to pass across her face as she paused halfway through the last step she was taking toward him. Unsure what to do, he hesitated to see if it would pass on its own, not wanting to push her. It was only a few seconds before her smile returned, however, which made him smile as well.

"So?" she asked, now standing close to him, but so far both of them had their hands at their sides. He held the spatula straight up in the pan, passing it to her.

"There you go," he told her, "it's all you."

"But what do I do?" she asked, holding the spatula nervously, slightly panicked. "What if I ruin the spaghetti? Sawyer may never forgive me."

Kurt just chuckled at the thought. "Well," he told her, "so far you're doing exactly what I do, so just stick with me, and you'll be fine." She smiled at the thought of "sticking with him," moving the spatula slowly in the pan and glancing back and forth between the food and Kurt.

"Good, the water's boiling," Kurt said, looking at the saucepan to Jane's left. He walked around to the counter on the other side of her, once again very close but not touching her. It was as though suddenly they had _both_ turned shy.

He opened the box of noodles, tilting it to dump them into the boiling water carefully, so they didn't splash. Once he'd gotten all of the noodles submerged in the water, he turned to look at Jane's progress with the meat.

"Looks good," he told her, finally leaning close enough to make contact. His right hand intertwined with her left, and he squeezed slowly. Almost immediately, her left shoulder leaned softly against his, and she relaxed noticeably.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Better now," she told him quietly, smiling self-consciously and looking down at the meat in the pan. She was very much enjoying the warmth from the pan in front of her, because try as she might, she still hadn't managed to stop feeling cold. And of course, she was enjoying the warmth she felt inside from standing beside Kurt, too.

"Looks like the meat is almost done," he told her, reaching up to turn the heat on the burner down with his left hand, keeping his right hand in hers.

"Now what?" she asked, looking up at him a little less shyly now.

"Sauce," he replied, turning slightly toward the refrigerator on the other side of her, only then realizing that he was going to have to let go of her hand again to get the sauce. He felt her try to hold his hand in place when he let go, but he put his left hand on her left shoulder, which distracted her enough for him to pull his hand away, chuckling as he walked past her.

"Wait, what…?" she asked in confusion as he walked around her, narrowing her eyes at his back when she realized that he'd tricked her. He pulled the sauce out of the refrigerator, turning around to see the look on her face and couldn't help but laugh. He opened the sauce and walked towards her, pouring it into the pan with the meat and shaking it slightly to be sure he got as much out as possible, then replacing the jar on the counter and fighting to contain his laughter. She was staring at him, still looking shocked that he'd pulled his hand away from her. She looked too cute.

She was still holding onto the spatula in the pan loosely with her right hand, and he put his right hand above hers, stirring the meat and sauce to mix them together, while she looked back and forth from the food to him once again. Finally, he lay his left hand over her right on the handle of the spatula, slowly taking it away, and then laid the spatula down so that the end of the handle sat against the stove.

"We don't need to stir it anymore," he told her quietly, his eyes flicking to the timer that he'd set for the noodles, "and there's still four minutes left for the noodles to cook, so…"

"So…?" she asked, looking up at him, her pretend shock slowly turning into a shy smile.

"So we just have to stand here and wait for four minutes," he told her, slowly winding his arms around her upper back and pulling her close to him once again. He felt her inhale slowly and deeply, and then exhale the same way.

She was trying not to overthink things, but it was impossible. "So, um… what are we… uh…?" she started, but didn't quite finish her question, at least as she'd intended to ask it. She noticed that her arms had wound around him just as easily as his had gone around her, perhaps even more so, since she hadn't noticed herself doing it.

"I told you," he said calmly, leaning his cheek against hers, "whatever you want." She took a few more deep, quiet breaths, feeling herself calming down just standing there with him. "Okay?"

She nodded against his shoulder, and he felt her relax against him. Just then, the timer beeped beside them, and he released his right arm from her shoulders so that he could reach up and press stop, also turning off the burner.

"I need to get the noodles, so we can have some dinner," he told her, leaning back so that he could look into her eyes. She smiled up at him and nodded, dropping her arms from him hesitantly and stepping back. "Do you know what I think the best part of this weekend is?" he asked her as he bent down to get a colander out of the lower cupboard.

"Not freezing to death in a blizzard?" she asked jokingly, raising her eyebrows.

He looked thoughtful as he stood up and walked around her to put the colander in the sink, and then walked back to the stove to get the noodles, taking them to the sink and dumping them to drain. It was only then that he turned back around and looked at her, taking a step forward so that he was close to her, but not quite close enough to have put his arms around her. "You know what? I have to be honest… that was the most fun near death experience I've ever had," he said seriously, looking into her eyes. "And I've had quite a few." She rolled her eyes and chuckled, shaking her head at him as she felt herself blush. At the same time, she got the feeling that he was serious.

"Well, that _was_ a lot of fun," he grinned, "but my favorite thing about this weekend is that it only just _started_." She stopped to think about that, the fact they would be there for at least another full day and into Monday, and that was if good weather held out. She was fairly sure that they wouldn't be venturing back towards home if there was even a whisper of snow in the forecast. She smiled and nodded her head, momentarily speechless.

"Alright, time to get this food on the table," he said, taking plates out of one of the cupboards. "Hey, looks like Sarah has some wine over there," he added, pointing toward the other end of the counter, where a bottle and three glasses sat ready. "I think we _definitely_ deserve that after the day we've had."

"Yeah, that's for sure," she agreed, walking over to the bottle to take a closer look. Not that she knew anything about wine, of course. When she turned around a minute later, there was spaghetti on all four of the plates, three large ones and one smaller, for Sawyer.

"You want to grab the glasses?" he asked, and she nodded, bringing them to the table, along with the bottle, in two trips. He grabbed silverware, handing it to her to put on the table while he grabbed a glass of milk for Sawyer. When it was all set up, he walked over to her where she stood beside the table, threading his arm around her waist from beside her and leaning his chin down on her shoulder. "We did a good job," he observed. "Thanks for your help."

She snorted and shook her head, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "I didn't do a thing," she replied with a smile.

"On the contrary," he told her quietly, "I couldn't have done it without you."

"We should go and get the other two before the food gets cold. It'll be way less impressive then," she told him, giving up on deflecting the credit from herself, since he seemed intent on sharing it with her.

"Very true," he told her. "Come on." His hand slipped off her waist, and she immediately felt the loss of it against her as she followed him to the door of the kitchen where it opened into the living room and then the hall that led upstairs. "Hey Sarah! Sawyer!" Kurt called. "Dinner's on the table!"

"Spaghetti!" Sawyer yelled almost immediately, flying down the stairs past them, which made Jane laugh, leaning into Kurt to get out of the way and avoid being trampled. Sarah emerged from the master bedroom a moment later, closing the door behind her and shaking her head at her son.

"Thanks for making dinner, Kurt," she said as she came down the stairs. "I'm almost done wrapping everything. I _may_ not be up half the night, for once." She grimaced as she thought back to Christmases of past years.

"It was a team effort," Kurt replied, taking Jane's hand, and making her smile in embarrassment.

"Well thanks, you two," she said, "And I'm sorry to put you to work so soon after your ordeal today…"

"We're fine, Sarah," Kurt repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.

"We're happy to help," Jane told her sincerely as Sarah rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, we'd better get in there before Sawyer eats it all," Sarah told them, going on ahead into the kitchen.

Kurt pulled Jane to a stop beside him, leaning closer to her. "How are you?" he asked. "Ready for family dinner?"

"Why not?" she asked with a smile. "It has to go better than the first time, right?" Both of their minds flashed back to the first time she'd gone to dinner at Kurt's apartment with Sarah and Sawyer, back when they'd all thought that she was Taylor. She hadn't even lasted two minutes at the table before she'd freaked out and made a beeline for the elevator.

"Right," he said with a wink, looking into her eyes for a few more seconds before deciding that they needed to get to the table before Sawyer really _did_ eat all their food. "Come on," he said with a smile, tugging on her hand. "Before the food gets cold."

"Don't say the c-word," she told him, shivering involuntarily. He smiled at her and shook his head, tugging her back toward the kitchen. This had already been a very memorable Christmas Eve.


	18. Straighten Out The Curves

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

Dinner passed relatively uneventfully. For the three Wellers, it was like old times back at Kurt's apartment, but better. The difference was that Sarah could see a change in her brother. He had always been his most open at home with them, but even so, there was an air of happiness about him that she didn't remember ever seeing before, even when he'd been at his happiest. It wasn't hard to figure out what it was, because with the number of times that he looked at Jane, and the expression on his face every time he did, it was pretty obvious. Her older brother was finally in love, and Sarah could not have been happier about it. After everything he'd been through, he certainly deserved it. And from the fragments that Sarah knew about Jane, she did, too.

Conversation flowed easily at the table, and even Jane was surprised to find herself unexpectedly drawn into it. She still didn't say much, but she didn't feel as separate as she had earlier, as though she was crashing another family's Christmas celebration. No, she found that she really did feel welcome there, as if she was there because her presence had been a part of everyone's plans, and not as though she'd been the last second addition that she had been. That part, while true, still made her slightly uncomfortable, but all she could do was to try not to think about it. After all, she'd gotten pretty good at selectively ignoring events of her past.

After dinner, they moved into the living room by the Christmas tree that Sarah and Sawyer and put up and decorated upon their arrival a few days before. All the ornaments and decorations had still been in the attic, just as they'd been for all of Kurt and Sarah's lives. While he hadn't focused on the history that stared back at him while they'd eaten dinner, now, in this living room that was the same one where the Weller siblings had spent so many Christmases with their parents, and then after their mom had left, just their father, it was as though Kurt couldn't stop the flood of memories.

He started at the fire that he'd started in the fireplace, and it continued to crackle loudly from nearby. Despite the apprehension that he'd felt as they'd arrived a few hours before, since then they'd been so busy settling in that Kurt had managed to keep the memories at bay. After all, it had been a relief just to have gotten there alive, a relief to have seen Sarah and Sawyer for the first time in so long, and a pleasant distraction to have Jane there. But as he sat there by the Christmas tree, at one end of the same couch on which he sat with so many of the many ghosts of his childhood, the memories quickly began to come back to him – the same ones that made up the reason why he had avoided this place for so many years.

When he looked across the room, for example, he saw the window that faced what had been Taylor's house, where she had stood to look out of impatiently, checking for her mom's car in their driveway, on so many different occasions. He saw the carpet where, one time, Taylor had collapsed in a fit on laughter in the middle of the floor and had been unable to get up for a full thirty minutes, because she was simply laughing _that_ hard. He saw the doorway through which, suddenly, he could only see Taylor walking through, calling his name loudly in the little girl way that she'd never gotten the chance to outgrow. In other words, as he sat and looked across the room in any direction, he saw Taylor. Everywhere, he saw Taylor. The more times he saw her, the tenser he became. While he knew _why_ he was here, he couldn't help but ask himself why in the world he'd agreed to come here. After all, how was think helping him, to torture himself this way?

Jane had excused herself to go to the bathroom when they'd moved towards the living room for the Weller family's tradition of opening one present on Christmas Eve. She'd enjoyed dinner with everyone, but at the same time, being drawn into such a strong family bond and being made part of their Christmas tradition so effortlessly only reinforced the vacuum that her life was without them. She did her best to focus only on the present, just as she did so often. It just wasn't easy.

She didn't care that she wouldn't have a present to open, really she didn't. She did, however, still care that she didn't have presents for any of them. Try as she might to think about how to fix that, she couldn't come up with anything short of "go shopping next week when you get home." She'd spent a few extra minutes in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror, wondering what she could do. She'd come up with… nothing. There was nothing she could do just then, so she had to resign herself to that fact. Leaving the bathroom, she went in search of Kurt.

When she found him in the living room with Sarah and Sawyer, she could immediately tell that something wasn't right. She stood in the doorway, watching him, for a few minutes before walking the rest of the way into the room. Sarah and Sawyer were discussing something she didn't catch, but something that held their attention, in any case. Kurt was sitting at the end of the couch, staring off into the fire. Jane had been so wrapped up in her own insecurities, her own worries, since they'd arrived, that she hadn't even taken the time to ask him how he was faring in this house that was so full of his old ghosts. Suddenly, she felt guilty – this place was inhabited by his ghosts, not hers, after all.

Sitting down on the couch beside him, she folded her right leg in front of her so that she could sit turned to face him. "Hey," she said quietly, waiting for him to look at her and realizing that she was now in the position in which he usually found himself, saying the line that he usually said to her. "Are you okay?" He looked at her as if he'd just realized she was beside him – which he _had_ – and nodded absently.

"Yeah," he said, but it was clear from his expression that the answer was "no." After all, not only was she the queen of that particular lie, even when she was simply telling it to herself, but she also knew him better than that. He was sitting at the left end of the couch, his left arm along the pillow at the back and his right hand clenched in a not-very-loose fist, sitting on the far side of his right leg. Jane continued to sit facing him, watching him carefully for almost a full minute and seeing the sadness in his eyes. He was obviously somewhere else, a feeling that she knew all too well. She reached out her left hand tentatively, resting it on his knee and wondering what his reaction would be. The situation seemed to call for her to do _something_ , after all, and her experience was limited – she only knew the things that he had done for _her_ in similar situations.

He was struggling to hold it together at that moment, as his emotions suddenly felt like they were bubbling over. _Why had Sarah thought that this would be a good idea, anyway? Why do I have to relive it all over again? Especially now, knowing that Jane_ _ **isn't**_ _Taylor after all, that dad…_ He couldn't bear to even say the words in his head. His mind flashed back to that night, in the pouring rain, when he'd pulled the plastic boot out of the mud at the campground… the boot that had contained her _bones_. He was breathing more rapidly now, taking shallow breaths as he attempted to be in the moment that he _knew_ was happening around him – Christmas Eve – but still unable to free himself from the clutches of the past.

 _I can't do this,_ he thought, feeling himself begin to panic. If there was one thing that he _didn't_ do, it was panic. He was known for his composure, his calm under pressure. The feeling was so unfamiliar, that that only made it worse. He could already imagine what he'd have to say to Sarah, to _Sawyer_ – after fleeing the room before Sawyer had a chance to open a Christmas Eve present… it would be embarrassing. Sarah would understand, would look at him with pity, the way she always had when it came to anything to do with Taylor. Sawyer… well, Kurt hoped that his nephew would never _have_ to understand. After all, he wouldn't wish that kind of sadness on his nephew, or on anyone else for that matter.

It was only then that he became aware that someone was sitting very close to him, that there was a hand on his knee, squeezing gently, that there were eyes looking worriedly into his.

 _Jane_ , he finally remembered _._

Suddenly he was back in the present, looking into the eyes of a very worried Jane. He smiled weakly, attempting to reassure her that there was nothing wrong, but knowing full well that that ship had sailed. She already knew. _Of course_ she knew. No matter how he liked to think that he was a vault, and that his feelings couldn't show through the thick walls that he'd built, it just wasn't true. Especially not in this place, where he felt everything a hundred times more acutely than anywhere else, and not with Jane, who could, just because of who she was, somehow see through his walls anyway. That seemed only fair, since he'd spent so much time inside of her own walls.

Now that Sarah and Sawyer had finally noticed that Jane had rejoined them, Sawyer returned their attention to the business at hand – the presents. The idea was for Sawyer to choose one present to open before they went to bed. The adults were obviously less pressed, and didn't really care whether they opened anything.

Jane knew that she wasn't going to have anything, anyway, but that was irrelevant to her. After all, she was there with them and not alone in her safe house, which meant more to her than any present could have anyway. There were still moments, despite the agreement she had Kurt had made, when she felt like she couldn't possibly deserve to be there, to deserve another chance. She just did her best to push those thoughts aside and stay in the present. Besides, just then Kurt seemed to need her, anyway. After all the times he'd been there for her, that he'd pulled her back out of her own head, the least she could do now was to return the favor.

"Okay," Sawyer declared loudly, "everyone's here now, mom. Can we do presents?" He looked at his mother impatiently.

"Yes," Sarah replied, shaking her head at her ten year old's youthful exuberance. Sarah remembered loving Christmas as a kid, but these days it had turned into something that she knew that she was _supposed to_ love, but that was just a lot of work. She was slightly comforted by the assumption that most moms probably felt the same way, and she did her best to enjoy it for her son's sake. As far as she was concerned, seeing Kurt happy was all the gift that she needed, anyway…

 _Although, come to think of it_ , she thought as she now looked at him, _he doesn't look too happy._

The happiness that she'd seen in him at dinner now seemed to be gone. She'd noticed while Jane had been in the bathroom that Kurt had seemed lost in thought since he'd walked into the living room, and she suddenly felt guilty. After all, it wasn't exactly hard to figure out what effect this house would have had on him. He'd worked so hard not to be there for so many years, because the memories of Taylor and his hatred of their father were so strong, he simply couldn't bear it. Maybe it had been selfish of her to ask him to come back one more time, but she really had thought that it would help him heal. Now that they knew for sure… that they knew the awful truth about their father, about Taylor… She'd wanted to help Kurt let go of the anger of his childhood, but maybe that was something that was just never going to happen.

Despite being deep in conversation with Sawyer, she had been going into full worry mode when Jane had walked back into the room. But then something amazing had happened. She had watched as slowly, unsurely, Jane had sat down beside Kurt. Sarah had been in awe of the way Jane seemed to know what to do, even though it looked like she felt unsure herself. Sarah would have hesitated to get so close to her brother when he was lost in thought like that – he'd lashed out at her enough times as he came back to the present time to make her think twice, no doubt an effect of the anger that thoughts of the past brought to the surface for him. But Jane sat down beside him calmly and looked at him with complete understanding, spoke to him quietly and gently laid her hand on his knee.

Sarah had watched in fascination as the other woman seemed to do everything right, and had been rewarded with a nod of Kurt's head, distracted though it was, and then finally, his eyes on her, one word in reply to whatever she'd said. It had been beautiful to watch, the understanding and the gentleness between the two of them, even though Sarah _did_ feel guilty for watching them so closely. This only served to reinforce Sarah's relief that the two of them had worked things out. She'd had nothing against Allie on the rare occasion that they'd been in the same place, but she'd always had the nagging feeling that the other woman wasn't right for her brother. Now, she had no such misgivings.

Sawyer was sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, the spot where he'd always been told to sit for the sake of his mother's attempt at capturing this moment – the first present – on her camera, looking impatiently from one adult to another. None of them were looking at him, but were instead focused on each other for some reason that he couldn't understand. Had they all forgotten why they'd come to sit in the living room in the first place? His mom had just _said_ that they could do presents, and now no one was even paying attention.

 _Adults don't make any sense whatsoever_ , he thought in annoyance.

"Mom?" Sawyer asked tentatively, which stole her focus from starting at Jane and Kurt, back to her son.

"What? Oh, yes sweetie," Sarah replied with a smile, looking at her son. She adjusted the settings on her phone and then held it up in front of her to take her son's picture.

Sawyer then glanced back at his uncle. "Uncle Kurt?"

Looking up, Kurt forced a smile onto his face that he didn't even begin to feel. "Go ahead, buddy, we're ready," he replied. It helped that Jane had turned to the side, curling her legs up on the left side of her on the couch and that she was now leaning back, against him, so that his hand along the back of the couch could rest between her shoulder blades. While he watched Sawyer, he tried to put himself in the place of a child who had no bad memories of this house, no childhood trauma more serious than his parents' divorce. He envied his nephew the ability to be so carefree as he watched him tear into the wrapping paper on the present in front of him. What he wouldn't give to have his life be that simple.

 _Except that you wouldn't want that_ , the voice in his head chimed in. It had been silent for quite some time now, but it never left completely. _Take away the trauma of your past, the mistakes made by your father and the path that they set you on… If you straighten out the curves, so to speak, then where do you end up? Maybe in this place this year, maybe not… but certainly not with Jane. Having Jane in your life is a product of the pain in your past. She couldn't have been placed there – would never have been sent to you – if not for so many things that haunted you. If you'd never been haunted by your past, well, you may have turned out more well-adjusted. You also may have ended up with Allie. Or any other random woman for that matter. But not Jane_ , the voice concluded.

As Sawyer held up some sort of Minecraft themed toy that Kurt didn't even pretend to recognize, except that it was associated with the video game that Sawyer loved, his mind wandered to that fact – that if not for his father killing Taylor, Jane wouldn't be sitting next to him. He _knew_ this, of course, just based on the timeline of events that had happened to each of them. Without his single-minded obsession with finding Taylor Shaw and missing kids in general, Sandstorm never would have been able to insert Jane into his life – at least not anything like the way they'd done it. If anything had been different, chances were that she wouldn't be beside him. Just that thought alone was enough to send shivers down his spine. Simply being in that house again, seeing Taylor everywhere he looked, all that was painful enough. Then suddenly to imagine Jane erased from his life… it was almost too much.

His hand stopped moving across her back, coming to rest over the spot where she knew so well that his name had been set. She couldn't help but wonder if it meant something that he'd stopped there, not on her shoulder, where it was easier for his hand to rest. As Sawyer tore into the packaging, exclaiming happily that it was just what he'd wanted, Jane turned to look at Kurt. His eyes were pointed at Sawyer and he'd forced a smile onto his face, but she would've been willing to bet that he had no idea what was going on right in front of his eyes. Unable to comfortably reach his right hand from the way she was sitting, and not quite comfortable putting her hand on his upper thigh, she turned back to look at the scene in front of her, but at the same time leaned her head to the right slightly until the top of her head leaned against his cheek. Almost immediately, she felt increased pressure as he leaned back against her head. This was their communication, her way of letting him know that she was still there, and he breathed just a little bit easier because of it.

Next, Sawyer stood up and walked around the giant mound of presents around the base of the tree, looking carefully for something in particular. Watching him as if through a fog, it suddenly occurred to Kurt that he still had a trunk full of presents outside… all addressed to Sarah and Sawyer. His chest hurt just a little bit at the thought that he had absolutely nothing for Jane.

 _You know why that is, right?_ the voice in his head asked. _Because up until yesterday, you never thought about her unless you had to._

She felt a sharp intake of breath beside her, and looked over at Kurt in surprise as his face suddenly looked pained, the forced smile no longer even present. He'd obviously just thought of something that he hadn't expected, and had had trouble processing it. Sitting in this house, that must be so full of old memories for him, maybe a few good but mainly bad, it was no wonder why he would be overwhelmed.

He felt her head lean against his cheek a little harder, and he felt even guiltier than he had a moment before. She'd obviously mistaken his gasp for something besides what it was – though if she'd known the source of his dismay, he was fairly sure that she still would have tried to reassure him. That was just the kind of person that she was. She'd trained herself to put all of her energy into caring about others, and most of the time not sparing a thought for herself.

He was working on this bad habit of hers, but changing the way a person thinks about themselves wasn't something that was going to happen overnight, and so far that was literally all it had been – overnight – as hard as it was to believe it. As intense as the past twenty four or so hours had been, and as long as he'd cared about her before that – the number of days since they'd met minus days when he had felt like he hated her making the precise amount of time extremely uncertain – it felt impossible that things between them had happened only yesterday. And yet, they had.

While Jane and Kurt had both been lost in their thoughts, Sawyer had handed a small box to Sarah. She was now peeling back the wrapping paper slowly, already having thanked her son profusely. What in the world could it be? And how had he gotten it without her knowing? He was _ten_ , after all.

The ensuing conversation between Sawyer and Sarah about where he had gotten the necklace with a small silver heart pendant – with the help of his dad, it turned out – faded into the background. Jane kept glancing over at them, but her attention was on Kurt. More and more, she worried about what was going on in his head.

Kurt, of course, was paying even less attention to the gift exchange than Jane was, though it wasn't by choice. He simply couldn't bring himself to tune out his thoughts, which were growing noisier and noisier with each passing moment.

The next thing they knew, Sawyer was standing in front of them, handing Kurt a neatly wrapped package that, Kurt was fairly sure even through the fog of his thoughts, was a sweater. He removed his hand reluctantly from Jane's back, leaning away from her to swing his arm around so that he had two hands with which to unwrap the gift that sat on his lap. He leaned back towards her to regain the proximity that he'd had a few seconds before, but at the same time, felt Jane lean away slowly, maybe attempting to remove herself from the center of attention. He didn't want her farther away from him – on the contrary, he wanted her closer – but he knew that that would be very much like her. As he worked on opening the present in front of him, he let his left elbow fall down against her right thigh, the only part of her leg that he could reach since she had tucked her legs up on the far side of her body. The gesture was meant as a signal to her that he didn't want her to move any farther away, and he felt her stop shifting as soon as his elbow rested against her leg.

It was, indeed, a sweater – a nice one, as usual. It was a soft, woven pattern in a deep grey. His first thought was that it would look particularly good on Jane, but he kept that part to himself. He had to say one thing for his sister, she had good taste in clothes.

"Thanks, Sarah," he said with as much of a smile as he could muster. Sarah, in turn, smiled back at him sadly. It was hard to watch him like this and know that were they having Christmas elsewhere, she wouldn't have had to see the pained look in her brother's eyes. She didn't like to think that it had been selfish of her to want to have Christmas here, but at that moment, she wondered who she had _really_ done it for – him, or herself. There was a certain amount of comfort that she took from being back there after all, even despite what they now knew. Looking at Kurt, however, she didn't think that he was finding _any_. At least not so far. Be that as it may, of course, they were there, so there was nothing that could be done about it now.

Sarah stood up to gather the wrapping paper from the gifts, feeling badly that there wasn't anything for Jane. That was when Sawyer leaned behind the tree from where he was sitting, then stood up and walked over toward Jane and Kurt with a long, cylindrical gift that looked like exactly what you would expect when a ten year old boy attempted to roll up a sheet of heavy paper and then wrap it as a gift, all on his own.

"Here, Jane, this is for you," he said simply, to the astonishment of all three adults. Jane sat and stared at the boy for a few seconds before reaching out to take the package, which was so light she wouldn't have been surprised if there was nothing in it at all.

"Sawyer… _thank you_ ," Jane said, suddenly feeling her emotions rise to the surface, her eyes threatening to water without even knowing what was inside the wrapping. She hadn't expected anything, after all. "I'm sorry…" she said, looking up at him where he still stood in front of her. "I don't have anything for you… I had no idea that I was coming here until last night."

"I know. That's fine. But I wanted you to have something," he said, smiling at her innocently.

Jane didn't know what else to say, so she looked down at the package, and then realizing that everyone was watching her, began tugging gently at the wrapping paper. The single piece of tape in the middle came undone, and she unrolled the wrapping paper from around it slowly, since she could feel that whatever was inside was likely just a single piece of rolled up paper. Kurt was leaning closer to her, watching over her shoulder, and Sarah had walked over to see what her son had given to Jane. Even _she_ didn't have anything for Jane, about which she felt terrible.

Pulling the wrapping paper away from what had indeed been a thick sheet of rolled up paper inside it, Jane held onto it for a few seconds before letting it unroll in her hands. She recognized the weight of the paper as coming from a sketch book, and she wondered if Sawyer had started a drawing collection of his own. Almost in slow motion, she smoothed the paper out in front of her, and there was a collective, quiet gasp among the three adults in the room. There on the page, Sawyer had used colored pencils to draw a portrait of Kurt, serious look and scruff and all, with Jane beside him. They were both looking forward, and Jane's head was tilted toward Kurt, their shoulders touching. While it wasn't a professional quality drawing, having been done by a ten year old, the likeness of each of them was easily recognizable.

Sawyer was a little bit confused about why all the adults were standing around, stunned, and staring at his drawing. No one said a word for more than a few seconds, and he began to feel a little bit paranoid. What was the big deal, anyway? Was it that bad?

Inhaling sharply and biting her lip to keep from choking on the emotion that now threatened to overwhelm her, Jane took a deep breath. She knew that she needed to compose herself quickly, because it seemed unlikely that Sawyer would understand if she started to cry, which was her first instinct. Forcing herself to exhale slowly and smiling as widely as she could, she looked up at the boy's hopeful expression, feeling tears in her eyes but managing to keep them there.

"Sawyer, I love it. Thank you so much," she managed to say, albeit in a choked whisper. Sawyer beamed proudly, obviously relieved that his gift had been well received.

Then suddenly, his face became serious. "I know that you're not Taylor," he said, again very matter-of-factly. "My mom told me… what happened to her."

"She did?" Kurt asked, unable to help himself.

Sawyer looked up at his uncle, and nodded solemnly. "She said that she just disappeared one night, and that you didn't know what happened to her back then… but that not too long ago, you found out that she had died. A long time ago. So Jane was never Taylor." He smiled sadly at his uncle, his young mind unable to imagine how much it would hurt for his best friend to die.

Kurt, in turn, looked up at Sarah, and they nodded at each other. He was glad that she'd told him the truth, but that she'd stopped where she had. There was no reason to tell a ten year old that his grandfather was a murderer, especially now that he was gone. That part of the story could come later, when he was older and hopefully better able to handle such a horrible revelation – if at all.

Still watching Jane, Sawyer continued, "And I know that you and everybody thought that you were Taylor. I remember when you came over for dinner that first time. That must have been hard, not to remember anything. But… I'm glad that you're Jane, and that you're here."

Jane had now given up on keeping her tears from falling, and several of them were trickling down her cheeks as Sawyer spoke. She swatted at them in vain, as they continued to fall. Still, she was smiling at this boy who displaying wisdom far beyond his age. When Jane glanced up at Sarah, she saw that Sawyer's mother had her hands clasped together, palms pressed flat against each other, in front of her face, and that there were tears on her cheeks, as well.

But the look on his face told them all that the youngest Weller had more to say, and she focused on him once more. "My mom says, that you always made Uncle Kurt happier than she'd seen him since Taylor disappeared, when _he_ was ten. My age. You know… back before you guys started having problems." Sawyer frowned for a second, not really understanding that part, because he'd never seen the two of them look anything but happy together. He even remembered catching them _kissing_ one time… which was gross. He shrugged then, and continued. "But you don't look like you're having problems anymore, so… I'm glad. He's the best uncle ever. He deserves to be happy."

For a few seconds, Jane just sat there in shock, unable to absorb everything that Sawyer had just said to her – to them. While she stared at him, Sawyer looked around and suddenly noticed that every one of the adults had the same expression on their faces, and either had tears running down their faces or, in the case of his uncle Kurt, looked like they were about to. Sawyer turned to his mom, confused, and asked, "Mom, did I say something wrong? Why is everybody crying?"

Sarah walked the two steps that separated them and hugged her son tightly. "No, sweetie, everyone's just amazed, because… what you did for Jane, and what you said… you're absolutely right. Sometimes adults feel like things are a lot more complicated than they should, and you just reminded us how simple it all is." Sawyer seemed satisfied with his mom's explanation, and he looked back and Jane and Kurt hopefully, wishing they would stop crying.

"Sawyer, thank you so much. I _love_ that portrait. It's… perfect," Jane said, trying her hardest to smile. "It's one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me." She watched as the boy standing in front of her beamed happily.

She and Kurt looked down at the drawing again, in awe, and Sawyer stepped closer to them to peer over the edge of the paper, and then looked back up at the faces of his two subjects.

"This is amazing, buddy," Kurt told him sincerely. Sawyer just grinned now, pleased that his gift had been so well received, and that he was now getting the reactions that he had hoped for.

"Come on Sawyer, help me in the kitchen, and then you need to take a shower," Sarah told him, eyeing Jane and Kurt and guessing that they needed a minute. She walked over to put her arm around her son's shoulders and to steer him out of the room, if necessary.

"Do I _have to_?" he asked, suddenly sounding far younger than the boy who'd just spoken so maturely a moment before.

"Yes, you do," Sarah answered evenly. "Or there'll be no Christmas presents for you tomorrow." Sawyer sighed dramatically, glanced back and Jane and Kurt with a smile once more before turning to walk to the kitchen with his mom.

Alone once again, Jane and Kurt leaned closer to each other, once again staring at the drawing.

"I can't believe he did this," Jane said softly.

"He's pretty amazing, alright," Kurt agreed, reaching both arms around her, his right in the front of her and his left in the back, and tugging her closer to him with his hands clasped together against the front of her left arm.

Turning to look at him, she replied, "It seems to run in the family."

She watched as her words sunk in, and then seconds later when he shook his head and began to protest, not with humility but in self-deprecation, she already knew what to do. She'd expected just that reaction, after all. Raising her eyebrow at him, she just shook her head. Knowing that he'd just been caught about to violate their agreement, he stopped before he'd started. Instead of saying anything about how he felt unworthy of her compliment, he just smiled at her until she looked back down at the drawing in her hand.

When she turned her face away from him to look back at her drawing, he took advantage of the chance to lean forward and kiss her cheek. This made her turn back to look at him, smiling tiredly.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded, leaning into him and laying her head against his chest.

"Yeah," she replied. "But are _you_ okay?" she asked him in return. "When I walked into the room before, you looked…" She didn't know how to describe it, but she figured that he knew what she was talking about. While she hoped that if something was wrong, he'd feel comfortable enough to tell her, she wasn't expecting much, really. He'd never been a "talk about your feelings" guy, after all. He'd always communicated more through his eyes than his words.

He sighed heavily, and Jane knew immediately that she'd been right. Pulling herself back up, so that she could lean against the back of the couch and look him in the eyes, she found that he was looking off into the fireplace once more.

"I was just sitting here before, and… it's like…" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "In this house, I see her _everywhere_. Taylor. At the window over there, looking for her mom's car. On that carpet, laying on the floor and laughing hysterically. Walking through the doorway, sitting on the couch, skipping in circles…" He opened his eyes, but the pained look on his face intensified, and she wondered if he suddenly saw her again. He closed them again, harder this time, dropping his head to his chest and struggling to breathe normally.

Her chest hurt just watching him like this. Even though without this lifetime of suffering, she knew that neither of them would have ended up there on that couch together, she couldn't help but think that if there was _anything_ she could have gone back and done differently, she would have done it in a heartbeat – even if it meant that their paths never crossed. If it meant that he was spared this heartache, it would have been worth it, as sad as that thought was to her.

Putting her right hand over his, on top of her left arm, she squeezed it tightly. There was nothing she could do to fix this, and that was a _terrible_ feeling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling her throat closing up around the words, and tears threatening to fall again. She managed to pull his hand off of her arm, and she now held it tightly in her lap. "What can I do?"

For a minute she thought that he wasn't going to reply, and that would have been okay. After all, what _could_ she possibly do? The answer was probably _nothing_ , anyway. "This," he said faintly, to her surprise, echoing exactly what _she'd_ told _him_ when faced with the same question. As far as he was concerned, she was doing the exact right thing without knowing it, as usual.

"I'm sorry I wasn't her," she whispered suddenly, her voice breaking. She was as surprised as he was, because she really didn't know where the words had come from, only that she hated feeling so helpless. She would have given _anything_ to have been Taylor Shaw, just as she'd told him when she'd first come back to the FBI. Not for herself, but for him.

"Don't say that," he said immediately, pulling her back against him once again, tighter than before. And then, against her cheek, he whispered, "I'm not." The tone of his voice left no room for argument, and he held onto her so tightly, it was almost as though he thought that she was going to disappear into thin air at any moment.

The crackling of the fire was the only noise in the room for a while, as they simply sat there, on the couch together, holding onto each other. Her hands, he began to notice as his surroundings came back into focus, were freezing even now, and he took both of them between his own.

"Are you still cold?" he asked in surprise.

"Yeah," she told him, "I feel like I'm never going to be warm again."

"I'll take that as a challenge," he told her, rubbing his hands over hers and leaning his cheek against her temple.

The hint of a smile appeared on her face. "No arguments here," she replied.

"You know, I hear the best way to warm up is—" he started, but she elbowed him in the side and laughed, heartache momentarily forgotten.

"Don't push your luck, Agent Weller," she told him. "That is _not_ happening twice in one day."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugged. She shook her head and chuckled, feeling him do the same behind her, and leaned into him.

"How was this really all one day?" she asked him quietly, shaking her head in disbelief.

"How was this really all one _lifetime?_ " he replied, then leaned his face down into her hair, inhaling slowly. She chuckled softly in agreement.

"I don't know," she replied, though she knew that the question had been rhetorical. "I don't think I know anything anymore."

He set his chin against the back of her head for a second. "I'm glad you're here, Jane," he told her again. "I don't think I could have done this without you."

"I'm glad, too," she replied quietly, leaning into him.

Neither of them were quite ready to move, but there was nothing that said that they had to. Not yet. Despite the long, exhausting day they'd had, she definitely wasn't ready to think about the sleeping situation. Truthfully, she didn't even want to think about sleeping. With the frequency with which she'd been having nightmares lately, it seemed like not sleeping was the better option anyway.

No, for the moment she was absolutely content with where they were.


	19. Haunted

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)_**

When Sarah walked into the living room a little while later, yawning from the effort of a long few days getting her family's old house ready for Christmas, she found Jane and Kurt snuggled on the couch together.

 _Finally_ , she thought as she smiled at them knowingly. She noticed that Jane blushed immediately, looking uncomfortable and, if Sarah wasn't mistaken, that she self-consciously tried to sit up a little bit. But Sarah also noticed that her brother didn't let Jane move away from him, holding her exactly where she was and grinning like a kid who'd gotten exactly what he'd wanted for Christmas. He _had_ , she supposed.

Jane had turned to glance at him in surprise, and Kurt had just smiled at her, fighting to pull her even closer rather than let her go, amusement obvious on his face.

 _There two are really and truly the cutest thing,_ Sarah thought. _Bordering on disgusting_.

"Hey guys," Sarah said with a smile. She tried to think of something else to say, but for that moment, she was speechless. It was exactly like Sawyer had blurted out a little while ago – she hadn't seen Kurt so happy since he was ten years old, before Taylor had disappeared. She hated to be the one to give either of them a reason to get up, even for a few minutes, but she did it anyway, confident that it would only be temporary. "Kurt," she said, "Sawyer wants you to come in and say good night."

"Alright, no problem," Kurt replied, not moving a muscle. Sarah figured that it would probably take him a minute or so to convince himself to get up, judging from how comfortable he looked.

"Can you take over, the… uh… preparations?" Sarah asked him. "I'm about to crash."

"Absolutely," Kurt said with a grin.

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," Sarah replied with relief. "The stuff's on the top shelf of the closet, in a blue bin. What didn't fit is in my room, but I'll go and get it now.

"Before he's even asleep? Risky…" Kurt replied jokingly.

Sarah rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Please," she said. "He hasn't believed in Santa in two years."

"Does that mean he's getting a stocking full of underwear?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with laughter. That was the long established, well known rule in their family, and it kept all talk of not believing in Santa to an absolute minimum.

Jane had absolutely no idea what the two siblings were talking about, but hoped that at some point one of them would fill her in. She looked from one of them to the other for some explanation.

"Ha! No, the kid's pretty smart. He doesn't actually _tell_ me that he doesn't believe in Santa. He likes the whole toys and chocolates in his stocking thing too much… But you can just tell from comments here and there, or the things he casually mentions about other kids who still believe."

Kurt nodded, chuckling at the thought of Sawyer being sneaky enough to keep pretending to believe in Santa so that he could keep getting the good stuff – which was basically anything _except_ underwear. _Of course_ his nephew had brilliant powers of deduction and good investigative skills. He obviously took after _him._

Sarah left the room then, going upstairs to get the other bag of Santa presents, and Jane looked at Kurt in utter confusion. Finally realizing how strange the conversation had probably sounded to her, he said, "Sorry… the rumor in our house was always that if you stopped believing in Santa, all he would bring you was underwear. We had a cute little plaque thing that my mom had bought when I was little that said it…" His voice tapered off then, for a second, at the mention of his mother.

Jane bit her lip and held her breath, watching him as he stared into the fire. She wasn't sure he'd ever mentioned his mother, except to say that she'd left when he and Sarah were really small. When she squeezed her hand over his, he seemed to realize that he'd gotten lost in thought and looked back at her.

"Anyway," he continued as if he'd never stopped talking, "that kept us pretending to believe in Santa for a very, very long time."

"It's nice that you guys had each other to pretend with," Jane said absently, "I wonder if that's been harder or easier for Sawyer, without any other kids his age… to tell him he should or shouldn't believe in Santa."

"I don't know," Kurt mused. "Sarah wanted to have more kids, I think, but…" He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Well, her ex is her ex for many reasons. And she used to bug me all the time about Sawyer having a cousin. I think she gave up – I _hope_ she did, anyway – at least for a while." Something occurred to him then, and he couldn't help but suddenly look scared. "I hope she's not going to start that again, now that…" He didn't finish that particular sentence, but it was perfectly clear as they looked into each other's eyes that they both understood. "She used to embarrass the _hell_ out of me with that…" he added. It was the last thing he was going to say on the topic, he decided, because he was fairly sure that no good would come of expanding on it.

The longer he looked at Jane, the more he felt himself turning pink. Surely his sister had more tact than to start that campaign even before _he_ knew what was even going on with Jane… Hell, before anything was actually _going_ on… Realizing a few seconds later that no, Sarah had very little tact when it came to situations in which she could embarrass him, in fact, a feeling of dread overtook him. She had bugged him about having kids for a _long_ time, in various mortifying situations… why might this be any different?

Of course, the only person he'd been with even a little bit consistently was Allie, but that – _them, or anything permanent resembling a 'them'_ – had just never seemed like a possibility, much less a likelihood. Hell, they hadn't even been a good _idea_. He hadn't actually wanted to end up with her – she was a good person, just not the right one for him. In the end, when they broke up the last time, it almost felt like a relief, as though he'd known it was only a matter of time. As if it had been inevitable.

 _Yes, she grilled me about having kids in front of Allie at least once, probably more…_ he recalled. _Oh no, please don't let her go into that in front of Jane. There's already more than enough awkwardness…_

Jane just raised her eyebrows and smiled slightly as she watched him. Interestingly enough, if _he_ hadn't looked so completely freaked out at what he'd just said, it probably would have scared the hell out of her. But the fact that he _did_ look so alarmed made her want to just laugh, somehow. Maybe it was because this man who so constantly ran _toward_ danger without a second thought – when everyone else was running _away_ from it – looked terrified about the prospect of his sister asking him, specifically in front of her, when he was going to have kids.

Personally, Jane was, of course, surprised at the direction of the conversation, as well as the fact that this topic of interrogation by the younger Weller sibling didn't scare her more. So far their relationship status was "whatever you want," and consisted of sitting close together, with a few hours' worth of time spent pressed against each other when their lives had depended on it – literally – and punctuated by the very occasional kiss. Even thinking about kids at that point seemed more than a little bit insane.

 _Not_ that she could claim that she'd never given any thought whatsoever to a hypothetical future with Kurt. In fact, for months her nightmares had alternated with dreams of domestic bliss in which the two of them were the stars. In a way, these dreams were almost worse than her nightmares, because after each of these dreams, she'd woken up to the crushing reality that he wanted nothing to do with her. That certainly hadn't helped their strained working relationship at the time. She figured that she would maybe tell him about those dreams eventually, assuming that things continued on as they were at that moment… but she wasn't ready for that kind of big admission.

Shaking her head slowly, she tried to see things from Sarah's perspective. "She just wants the best for you guys," she said slowly, gathering her thoughts as she went. "A sibling was out of her control, so she thought about the next best thing. She loves Sawyer, and she wants the same kind of happiness for you." Noting Kurt's look of discomfort, she decided to quit while she was ahead, or at least before she got any farther behind. This seemed like a no-win conversation, after all.

It made sense to Jane that Sarah would have pestered Kurt about having kids, even if the possibility of being Sarah's target was more than a little bit terrifying. Jane certainly couldn't relate to Sarah's specific situation, but she could sympathize with the other woman's desire for her son to have something that she couldn't provide him. Besides, Sarah obviously saw what Jane did about Kurt – that he would make a great dad…

 _Over the line,_ her mind informed her. _Yes, you're just stating a fact, however… let's just back up. A lot._

Before either of them could say anything else, both of them just staring at each other in surprise, Sarah picked that moment to walk back into the room. Setting a very large plastic shopping bag down in front of him, she told Kurt. "Here's the rest of it. Thank you so much. I'll see you guys in the morning,"

Jane turned and smiled at her. "Good night, Sarah. Thanks for everything," she told her sincerely.

Sarah smiled back at Jane, stifling another yawn. "Good night, Jane," she said, then turned toward her brother. "Night, Kurt… I'm glad you guys made it here okay, no _major_ mishaps." Kurt nodded at his sister with a smile, and Sarah just shook her head and rolled her eyes. Her brother's tendency to scare the hell out of her was usually confined to work injuries, but apparently he was now branching out.

"Good night, Sarah," he replied with a grin. _She's so dramatic sometimes,_ he thought.

Sarah turned to leave, waving at them over her shoulder as she retreated back toward the stairs.

Alone once more, Kurt turned so that he could look into Jane's eyes, holding still for a minute and feeling the sudden weight of the look between them. He certainly didn't feel the need to return to the _very_ awkward conversation they'd been having before Sarah had come in the last time, and yet, he was still thinking about it.

"I should go and…" he began, but his voice trailed off to nothing. Jane smiled, not a full watt smile, but the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes, and nodded. She didn't want him to go anywhere, but of course she couldn't tell him not to go and say good night to his nephew. Besides, it wasn't like he was _leaving_. He was going to come right back.

"To go say good night to Sawyer," she finished for him.

 _You're spoiled_ , she told herself. _It's like the hours in the sleeping bag with him made it so that now you just can't get close enough to him, no matter what you do._

 _You could always go back in the sleeping bag,_ the voice in her head suggested playfully. She wanted to wring its neck, mainly because she liked the idea so much. _Of course_ she wasn't going to do that.

"I'll be right back," he said, still staring into her eyes.

She just nodded at him with the same weak smile. Why did she suddenly feel so… what _was_ it, anyway? There was no reason to feel like anything was wrong… and yet… something didn't feel _right_. That was the only way she could describe it.

Finally, after a long minute of staring at each other, during which he swore there was something different in her expression, he chuckled and forced himself to withdraw his arms from around her, to lean far enough away from her that he could stand up slowly. This – leaning away from her – was harder than it seemed like it should be, because they had molded themselves against each other as they'd sat there. When he was finally on his feet, he turned to walk toward the stairs, glancing back at her before walking through the archway that took him into the hall which led to the stairs at the front of the house. Once Jane was out of his line of sight, he took the stairs two at a time so that he could get upstairs to Sawyer and say good night, and then, more importantly at that moment, back downstairs to Jane.

As soon as Kurt went upstairs, Jane felt herself shiver, suddenly feeling colder than she had only a minute before. _Don't be silly,_ she told herself when she wondered if she was feeling colder because Kurt had left the room. _That doesn't even make sense. Maybe because he's not sitting_ _ **next to**_ _you, but not because he left the room._ But she swore that she hadn't noticed the difference until he'd turned around and left the room…

Deciding that it didn't matter which one it was, simply that she was cold, she stood up and stretched, walking across the room to the fireplace, where the fire was burning low but had not yet burned out. Finding the heat that the embers were still giving off a welcome feeling, she sat right up close to the hearth, her knees up in front of her and her arms wrapped around them tightly, staring into the dying flames. Not only was the warmth comforting, but watching the fire was mesmerizing, and she didn't hear Kurt come back into the room only a few minutes later.

The floors in the house, like the rest of it, were old and creaky, and Kurt was sure that she'd heard him come back into the room. However, when he had watched her from the doorway that was straight behind her for more than a minute without her showing any signs of having heard him, he realized that she really didn't know that he was there.

He walked slowly to where she sat in front of the fireplace, sitting down beside her so that his shoulder brushed against hers just slightly, and looked from her to the fire. She seemed to be mesmerized.

"Are you okay, Jane?" he asked

Jane nodded, but didn't look at him. "I can't get warm," she replied quietly. "I think I've been cold since the car…" Kurt just nodded. He knew the feeling. He didn't think that that was it, though, because she suddenly seemed a little… _off_. Standing up again, he walked back toward the couch, where there was a large, soft white wool blanket.

When he stood up, she felt as though the air had been sucked out of the space next to her. She didn't know why, but for some reason she felt the absence of him beside her more acutely than made logical sense.

He assumed that the blanket must belong to Sarah, because he'd never seen it before.

 _Then again, if someone bought it in the past twenty years, you probably wouldn't have noticed anyway_ , Kurt told himself accusingly.

 _Oh, so I was supposed to be reasonably expected to come back here? To see my father, the murderer, and do what? Make small talk?_ _ **Of course**_ _I didn't come back. And I was right, in the end, too,_ he thought, suddenly angry with the voice in his head as he walked slowly back toward the fireplace.

A few seconds later she felt him sit down next to her once again, even a little closer this time, noting the tension in his shoulder as it leaned against hers. She didn't object to the closeness, of course, simply looked at him in surprise, watching as he wrapped the large white blanket around them both.

"Maybe this will help," he told her softly, trying his best to once again simply push the thoughts of his father out of his head. The man was an unwelcome visitor there, after all. He knew that Borden would probably have told him that that wasn't the healthy way to deal with it all… but then again, Borden had lost his right to comment, trained professional or not. _He'd_ been a Sandstorm mole.

 _Come to think of it, it seems like very few people in my life are who I originally thought they were_ , Kurt thought fleetingly, glancing at Jane. _Mayfair. Carter. Keaton. My father. Borden. Jane._ His heart ached the most as he added her to the list, of course. Thankfully, at least he and Jane finally seemed to be back on the right path. Yes, everything had been a mess, but they were wading through it and coming out the other side. This was the best way he could make sense of things, on all the rest of it that seemed so completely messed up – by simply focusing on Jane.

 _Who_ _ **else**_ _isn't who I think they are?_ he wondered, hoping Jane hadn't noticed the shiver that ran down his spine. He pushed those thoughts from his mind for the time being then. After all, he'd much rather focus on her.

Beneath the blanket, he pulled his left arm around her upper back, tugging her closer to him until she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Better?" he asked quietly, speaking into her ear once again. She nodded, but even from that angle he could see that something was wrong. For several minutes, he glanced back and forth between Jane and the fire.

"Still cold?" he asked quietly, and he was surprised when she nodded. _How in the world can she still be cold?_ he wondered. He was determined to fix that, but he knew that at some point, he was going to have to stand up.

"Well, I'm happy to help you solve that problem. Though, I _will_ have to get back up again. After all, Sarah did leave the Santa duties to me," he said seriously.

"Santa duties?" Jane asked quietly, lifting up her head to look at him in tired confusion. She had no plans to actually sleep, but she was beginning to feel the effects of the long day.

"Yep," he replied. "You know… fill the stockings, set out the presents…" He immediately regretted his choice of words. **_Did_** _she know?_ He wasn't sure how much she knew about common Christmas traditions, it being only her second Christmas.

Her face seemed to tighten, and he stopped talking, silently cursing himself. Whatever had been wrong before, he didn't seem to be making it better. On the contrary, he was pretty sure he'd just made it worse. Not wanting to risk putting his foot in his mouth again, he hesitated to speak. The concern in his eyes was clear, however. _Talk to me,_ he begged her without speaking.

She exhaled slowly, deciding to start with the simpler of the two things that were currently on her mind. The guilt from the beginning of the trip had come flooding back to her as soon as he'd mentioned presents. "I don't have anything for anyone…" she sighed.

"Jane," Kurt said seriously, "no one expected you to have anything. I invited you at the last second. Besides, does it bother you that we don't have anything for you? With the exception of Sawyer's masterpiece, obviously." He looked at her expectantly, and a few seconds later, she shook her head.

"Of course not," she replied. "I'm just happy not to be in my safe house staring at the walls."

"Thank you for proving my point," he told her. "You don't need to give us anything. That's not what Christmas is _supposed_ to be about." He turned around and look at the tree, then back at her sheepishly. "I'll admit, we tend to lose sight of that. I guess we've always tried to overcompensate for the way our family sort of… broke apart."

At that moment, Jane felt badly for even bringing up the subject. The look on his face made her heart ache for both him and Sarah. After all, she knew what it was like not to have family.

"But that's not what I wanted it to be about," he continued, his expression changing. "I wanted you to come along because…" He thought for a second. "…because all of a sudden, I couldn't imagine _not_ spending Christmas with you."

He paused, sighing, and thinking about how confusing the sudden change must have seemed from her perspective. He wished he had a better answer for her about that. "And I know you probably have whiplash trying to understand how we went from one extreme to another since yesterday…" She smiled then, because the thought had crossed her mind. He sat there, trying to gather his thoughts, but they refused to be collected. Instead, they both stared into the fire for several minutes before he glanced at her once again. He couldn't help but notice how her face was lit by the flames. She looked more beautiful than ever. "The fact that you're here… I can't think of a better Christmas present. There's nothing else I want."

He tried to remember back to twenty-four hours before, to what they'd been doing… but he couldn't quite remember. It felt like things between them had always been like this.

 _No, the party ended at 9:00 last night, so at this time yesterday she was already with me._ It seemed like another lifetime.

She really and truly didn't know what to think, much less what to say, just then. He was absolutely right, she did feel like she had gotten extremely mixed messages from him… although, strangely, it all almost made sense to her. In any case, she didn't doubt his sincerity, and she supposed that that had to count for something.

"I'd better go play Santa before it gets close enough to morning that Sawyer wakes up early to come down and peek at his presents… which he'll do, whether he believes in Santa or not," Kurt whispered to her. When he felt her sigh against him, he turned and kissed her forehead. "I'll show you what being Santa involves."

Smiling at him in spite of the fact that she didn't want him to get up, she then pulled the blanket tighter around herself when he did. Even though she knew that she was being silly, that he was right there in front of her and still focusing an intense look at her whenever he looked up, she couldn't help but feel like he was very far away. Then again, she'd been feeling that way since they'd climbed out of the sleeping bag, even when he was right beside her.

Watching as he went to the hall closet, just off the family room, and came back with the blue bin that Sarah had mentioned, Jane became more interested. Kurt moved back toward the stockings that were hanging in front of the fireplace, directly in front of her. There were three of them, with each of their names on them. The first two were significantly older looking, with a different but complimentary red and green pattern on them. One said 'Sarah,' and the other, 'Kurt.' The third one, which had a giant, smiling snowman on it, said 'Sawyer.' Jane smiled as she watched him take each one down, fill it with small items from the bag he was holding, and then lay it down on the hearth in front of her.

"I'll be right back," he said quietly, walking out of the room. Jane nodded, and returned her attention to the fire. She felt like she could stare into the dying embers all night. There was something beautiful and hypnotic about it all. He returned with three large, wrapped presents, setting them in front of the tree. Each was labeled with one of their names, and "from Santa."

Jane couldn't help but smile when he turned back to her. "All done," he proclaimed. "Now I think it's time for some sleep. What do you think?"

Nodding noncommittally, she tried to arrange her face into an expression of causal agreement as she nodded at him, though she had no intention whatsoever of sleeping. She thought back to the previous night, to the nightmare she'd had at Kurt's apartment. Feeling a shiver run down her spine, she did her best not to show it. No, it would be better if she didn't even try to sleep, she decided. Less risk of nightmares. However, that meant that it was going to be a long night… Not that it would be the first one. Besides, she'd been through _far_ worse, after all.

"I'll take the couch," Jane said quickly. After all, she wasn't going to sleep anyway.

"No way," Kurt replied quickly. "You take the bed in my old room. I'll take the couch." He said it as if the matter was already decided.

The problem was, when it came down to it, she didn't want either of them on the couch. Well, unless it meant that they were _both_ there. She already felt like he was too far away when he was sitting beside her, for goodness sake.

She wanted to tell him that, but… how? How could she tell him, with all of their history, this person who had been a complete stranger – no, worse than a stranger, who had actively _despised_ her – for months, up until barely more than twenty four hours ago when he'd had some sort of epiphany, that he was too far away from her when there was _any_ space between them at all. That was an easy question – she couldn't tell him that. That just wasn't the kind of thing you _said_ to someone, and certainly not someone in a situation that was as complicated as this.

No, she was fine not sleeping, she decided.

 _It doesn't have to be this complicated,_ the voice in her head insisted. She'd noticed that the voice was sometimes right, but in this instance, she absolutely refused to consider its advice. She was _not_ going to say that to him. Talk about a way to seriously embarrass yourself.

Seeing the stubborn look come over her face and knowing that she was about to argue with him, he decided to save her the trouble. He sat down beside her, but facing her and not the fireplace, and attempted to tug her so that she turned to face him and not the fire. "Would you like me to tell you why?"

He had successfully convinced her to turn and face him – she was willing to concede the direction she faced, at least. Everything else, however, was non-negotiable. She didn't want to go to sleep, didn't want to talk about going to sleep, didn't want to even admit that she was exhausted from the day they'd had, and she didn't want to look up at him, either. She did, however, want to know what his logic was behind insisting that she sleep in his childhood bed, because it sounded as though he had a specific reason, beyond just the fact that was a nice guy… Which he was, of course.

Unable to help it, she looked up at him slowly, hating the fact that she had conceded.

 _It's not a contest,_ she told herself. _You didn't_ _ **lose**_ _. Just listen to him. Do you really not think he has your best interests at heart? He's a lot more likely to be thinking of what's best for you than_ _ **you**_ _are,_ she reminded herself.

 _I hate it when that you're right,_ she told the voice.

He was looking at her patiently when she looked into his eyes, and it annoyed her that just looking up at him made such a sense of relief wash over her.

"I assume that you remember last night," he began gently. "The part with your nightmare, that is." She just nodded, glancing down at the floor nervously, then back up at him.

As hard as she tried, she only wished that she could _forget_ that nightmare – or any of the others, for that matter.

He watched her intently, waiting for a cue from her before he proceeded.

Now that she thought she saw where this was going, she reluctantly began to deflate. If his point was what she thought it was, he was going to win this argument easily.

After looking into her eyes for several long seconds, he started talking. "I just thought," he said quietly, reaching for her left hand with his right, holding it loosely and causing her stomach to do flips, "that you might prefer not to sleep out in the open if you were going to have another nightmare. That you might prefer to have a door that you could close."

Nodding slowly as his words sunk in, she grudgingly admitted to herself that what he'd said made sense.

"It won't be enough, though," she said quietly. He swore she sounded sad, which was confirmed when she added, "I should've just stayed home, where there's no one to disturb in the middle of the night. I don't want to wake up Sarah and Sawyer…" And then, in a very small voice, she added "I was just going to make myself stay up."

The look on his face told her that he thought that that idea was crazy. "And then what?" he asked her. "Not sleep until we get back to New York?" He'd been kidding, of course, because it sounded so ridiculous, but judging from the look on her face, that had been pretty close to her plan.

"It's only a few days. And we don't have to get all the way back. I can sleep in the car going home…" She trailed off, knowing that he wasn't going to react well even though she'd already looked away from him.

"Jane," he said, at a loss for what to say, finally settling for one word. " _No_." He shook his head sadly, looking at her, but she refused to meet his eyes again. "Can I tell you the rest of what I was thinking, besides you taking the bed in that room?" he asked quietly when he had recovered the power of speech. After all, maybe it would make a difference.

 _You're thinking that you'll share it with me? What is probably a twin bed?_ she thought, assuming that that was what he was going to say. It seemed awfully presumptuous of him, and yet after the way they'd finally fallen asleep last night and the way they'd spent the afternoon in the sleeping bag, it almost didn't seem like a big deal. _Almost_. What was more, she was fairly sure that having him that close would work against her nightmares. Still, she dreaded hearing the words.

The only thing that was worse than how much she dreaded hearing him say that was how very much she _wanted_ him to say it.

When she looked back up at him again with a sigh of resignation, he couldn't quite read the look on her face, but he took it as encouragement to continue. "I was thinking that I would take the sleeping bag and put it on the floor in there. That way, if you need me I'm right there."

Finding that she was both relieved and simultaneously disappointed by this plan, she just nodded. It made sense. She still didn't think she would sleep, but it seemed like a compromise that she could live with, at least logically.

"But what about Sarah…?" Jane started to ask. She didn't really want to come out and say _What about what Sarah will think? That we're sleeping together, after everything?_ But she didn't need to fill in all of the words for him to understand.

"What about her?" he asked, looking directly in her eyes. "Does it matter what she thinks or doesn't think? We're all adults."

She had to admit that he had a point. Of course it didn't matter.

He wondered if she was legitimately worried or just looking for reasons why his plan was a bad idea. "Jane, if you don't like the idea, I'll sleep on the couch. But _you_ are not sleeping on the couch."

He said it with such finality that she accepted it as fact. After all, she _knew_ how stubborn he was when he wanted to be, and she didn't have the energy to argue with him. He had this annoying habit of caring far more about her well-being than she seemed to.

Shaking her head slowly, she said, "I don't want you to sleep on the couch." She didn't want him to sleep on the floor, either, but that wasn't something that she was ready to say out loud.

Smiling for the first time since he'd played Santa, he felt as though he'd just made a breakthrough. However she actually _did_ feel – because from the look in her eyes, he guessed that there was more that she didn't want to say – he'd at least gotten her to admit that much.

"Good," he said simply. Then, deciding _why not?_ he added, "I didn't want to either. I'd rather not be that far away from you." A half second passed before he added, "Just in case." She couldn't tell if he meant that he didn't want to be that far from her _at all_ , or if he wanted to be sure he was nearby if she had a nightmare.

 _It could always be both,_ she thought.

What he'd just said about not wanting to be that far away from her, of course, was more or less what she had been thinking about him, and she looked at him with surprise obvious on her face.

 _Did he read my mind?_ she wondered.

 _Or maybe, he just feels the same way. You know, the way you don't want to admit that you feel_ , the voice in her head reasoned. She tried stubbornly to push the feeling away, whatever it was that had overwhelmed her for a moment. It was soothing and terrifying at the same time.

Watching her carefully, he just smiled encouragingly, then lifted her left hand slowly in his right, bringing it up to press the back of her hand against the scruff on his cheek, just holding it there for a minute, watching her.

She felt as if her heart was doing belly flops, which was a very strange sensation indeed.

As he lowered her hand from his cheek, she was surprised to feel disappointment at the loss of contact. _You really shouldn't be surprised,_ the voice in her head piped up. _You've been disappointed every time you lost contact with him in the last twenty-four hours, maybe more_. When she thought about it, she was startled to realize that it was correct. She couldn't think of a single instance where she _hadn't_ wished that he hadn't let go.

The next example of this came immediately, when he suddenly let go of her hand so that he could push himself off the floor to stand up. "Come on," he said, extending his right hand to pull her up as well. She took it in her right hand, clutching the blanket around her awkwardly with her left, and managed to stand up without letting it go. He held onto her hand for a few seconds, letting it go only reluctantly, unsure of whether or not she wanted him to. He tried to read her, but at that moment it was impossible.

Walking behind him slowly, she followed him toward the stairs. On the way, he picked up her duffle bag as well as his in the front hallway, the stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked over his shoulder, waiting as she caught up.

"The grand tour will have to wait until tomorrow," he told her in a whisper. She just nodded silently, and he wondered why her eyes suddenly looked so hollow. "Are you okay?" he asked her with concern.

"Yeah," she replied quickly. _Too quickly_. She forced herself to smile, knowing full well that he wasn't going to believe it. _So why bother?_ she asked herself. Honestly, she didn't _know_ why she was trying, but for some reason it seemed important to at least put up the front. _You're so stubborn,_ she thought to herself.

That was when exhaustion seemed to hit her, like a ton of bricks – all at once. He was suddenly halfway up the stairs in front of her when she looked up, and she had to force her legs to move by sheer willpower. He had stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, waiting for her to follow, and he didn't go any farther until she caught up. It took her a minute, but she did – very slowly.

When they reached the top of the stairs, she felt as though she'd climbed a mountain. Her body needed rest, she knew, but she was so anxious and hyper alert, she doubted that it would be possible. There were two doors to the left of the stairs, and two doors to the right, one on each side of the hall. He turned right, then pointed to the one at the end of the hall on the left, that was ajar, pushing it open slightly. "That's the bathroom," he told her, then turned toward the door on the right side of the hall. His hand was on the doorknob for several seconds before he finally turned it, as if he was psyching himself up to open it.

When he finally turned the doorknob, he did so very slowly. Watching him hesitate, she realized just how hard it must be for him to be there, and that that was _exactly_ what he was doing – trying to prepare himself. After all, how many years had it been since he'd been here? What kinds of memories awaited him there? While she had been stuck in her own head about their sleeping arrangements, he was dealing with something far more traumatic, as far as she was concerned.

He pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside, looking around the room slowly. Against the far wall, there was a twin bed, one that looked like it was probably older than Kurt himself. As she stepped in slowly behind him and her eyes moved around the room, she also saw a wooden dresser that matched the bedframe, an old wooden desk and chair and a matching bookshelf. A closet door took up the far corner of the room, the only wall space in the small, crowded room without furniture, with the exception of the large window. She watched his eyes go to that window, and she had a guess about what it overlooked when the sky wasn't pitch dark. Her chest ached just thinking about what he must be feeling.

While there were small knickknacks, the layer of dust that had been on everything the last time he'd ventured inside this room – how many years ago had that been? – was conspicuously absent.

 _Sarah must have had something to do with that_ , he thought.

Though the room was small, she'd found just enough space to step up beside him. She was standing there silently, alternating between looking around at the room, basically a step back in time into Kurt's past, and at Kurt himself. It was unclear what he was thinking, but the pained look on his face made her wonder if it was a good idea for him to sleep in that room, after all.

Suddenly, she felt like _she_ was the one who should be reaching out to _him_.

"Kurt, if you decide you'd rather sleep on the couch in the living room, that's fine," she said hesitantly. She didn't want him to, of course, but he was looking more and more uncomfortable. When he looked at her in confusion, she sighed and added sympathetically, "You don't exactly look like you're comfortable in here."

His face changed then, as he made a conscious effort to pull himself out of his thoughts. He set both of their duffle bags down on the floor by the bookshelf, noticing that the books on it were the same ones that had been there when he'd occupied the room. Pulling his eyes away from the books and back toward Jane, he took two steps and found himself across the small room, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking around again.

Jane watched him carefully, trying to figure out what to do. She had no way to relate to what he was going through, after all – she couldn't even _remember_ most of her past…

 _But you certainly are haunted by yours,_ the voice in her head pointed out. _That much you understand better than anyone_. Still, she didn't move yet, simply watched him as he looked around. Suddenly, he didn't even seem to see her.

In his head, he was ten years old again. He felt the walls closing in around him, as he had in the days after Taylor had disappeared. He felt a surge of anger, but mostly he felt a deep sense of loss. He remembered this feeling… like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach and he was falling, while simultaneously being crushed by the pressure in his head. The psychologist he'd been sent to briefly had tried to explain to him back then that it was all in his head, but it _wasn't_ just his head. He felt the all-too-familiar feeling in his entire body, like a familiar nightmare from which he'd thought that he had long since woken up, only to discover, to his dismay, that he was right back where he'd started when he was ten years old. Suddenly feeling dizzy, he had to put his hands out on the bed to steady himself, breathing deeply.

 _It's not real,_ he told himself, but the conscious knowledge of this didn't seem to help.

Jane stood frozen in the center of the room, watching Kurt tense, a look of excruciating pain on his face. She didn't know what to do. And yet, without thinking about it, she moved towards him ever so slowly.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, that way, but the next thing he knew, he was in the mindset of his fifteen year-old self. He looked around the room once again with the eyes of himself as a teenager, back at home on one of his _very_ occasional visits. Usually, he just snuck back there and tried to coax Sarah to come outside to talk to him, to be sure that she was okay, or even just watched her through the window. But once in a while – mostly holidays, when all of the students were sent home – he was "officially" there. He couldn't win, after all – he'd hated military school, but he'd hated his father, arguably even more. He didn't want to be in either place, and yet, there was nowhere else _to_ be. The frustration and anger in him had run so deep back them, it had invaded every part of him, and now he felt in once again.

Again, he didn't know how much time had elapsed since he'd descended into this particular memory. _It isn't real,_ he told himself, just like he had before… but it didn't seem to be working any better than it had been before, to his dismay. It _felt_ real, and it reminded him of why he hadn't come back to this place in about two decades. There was nothing here for him… nothing _good_ , anyway. There was only… _this_.

Then, just as the pressure in his head – and in his whole body, really – was intensifying beyond what he was sure that he could take, something caught his attention. He didn't even know what it had been at first, he only knew that for a second, something dulled the pain of his past that had invaded his entire body. What was it?

A sound? A sensation? He couldn't even tell at first. His senses went on high alert, trying to figure it out, and the past – both his ten year old self and his fifteen year old one – began to fade ever so slowly as he struggled to regain consciousness in the present. Whatever it was that was distracting him, all he knew was that he far preferred it to what he had been feeling. For the present time, that was all he needed to know.

Kurt had been sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands out on either side of him, staring into space with a look on his face that was so heartbreaking, she knew that she had to do _something_. Of course, that brought up the question of _what_ , and Jane was at a loss. Her experience included precious little for her to draw from, after all. As she stood there helplessly, she watched as the look on pain and confusion on his face changed to one that more closely resembled anger, at which time she became almost afraid to get closer to him. She'd never seen him look so furious before.

 _He's still Kurt,_ she reminded herself. _Whatever feelings are overwhelming him, they're left over from his childhood. Chances are, he'd give anything to pull himself out of wherever he is just now, he just can't do it alone. Of all people, you should be able to understand_ _ **that**_ _._

With renewed determination, despite a slight fear that he wouldn't recognize her in his current state and would react to her attempts to help as an attack ( _I probably would in his place, after all,_ she had thought), she moved toward him at a glacial pace. Standing beside him, looking at him for several seconds while she tried to figure out how best to begin, she asked herself what _he_ would have done in her place. After all, they were so similar, chances were that that could work.

"Kurt," she said in her calmest voice. "It's Jane… Come back." She couldn't be sure if he had heard her, of course, but his breathing seemed to change ever so slightly. He seemed to take a deeper, steadier breath, though of course she could have been mistaken…

The next thing she did was to rest her hand on his shoulder, very slowly and tentatively. Again, there was no dramatic reaction on his part, but more of a slight shift in his posture and his breathing. Unsure of whether she was making progress so far, but encouraged by the fact that he hadn't reacted _negatively,_ at least, she perched herself on the edge of the bed beside him, just past where his hands gripped the sides of the bed tightly. She kept her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it ever so slightly, becoming increasingly worried that what she was doing wasn't helping after all.

The problem was, she couldn't think of anything else to do. And so she sat there with her hand on his shoulder, occasionally murmuring his name soothingly, feeling increasingly helpless.

Whatever it was that he was hearing, the sound was distorted, as if he'd been underwater. At the same time, he felt a sense of calm come over him, as the frustration and anger slowly dissipated. Then he heard the sound again, and this time it sounded less distorted. It was a voice.

He focused again, listening hard, determined to identify it if he heard it again. It took a few minutes, but the voice did indeed come again. He _knew_ that voice.

 _Jane._

He opened his eyes, which he hadn't even realized were closed, and his vision faded back in slowly. The room around him was familiar, unfortunately, and he felt his heart clench all over again.

 _No_ , _not again_.

Then suddenly, he heard the same voice again – the one that had pulled him out of his thoughts. It was closer this time.

"Hey." It was Jane, of course, there beside him.

He turned in surprise, only just then fully realizing where he was, and found himself looking into her eyes. Relief flooded his system all at once, and suddenly he could breathe normally again. Her hand left his shoulder, and settled instead on top of his left hand, which was still clutching the edge of the bed in between them.

When he smiled at her, albeit sadly, she let out a sigh. He wasn't the only one who was relieved that he had opened his eyes.

"Thanks," he said simply. No other explanation was necessary.

"Welcome back," she replied. "You okay?"

After looking into her eyes for a few seconds, he said slowly, "I am now." Worry faded from her face then, and she smiled. How could she not? After all, the rest of it didn't really matter, as long as they had each other.


	20. Darkness

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: Thank you so much to those of you who've been leaving me reviews. As always, I very much appreciate you taking the time to leave them, and you, the readers, really are generous with your praise overall. Since I'm not able to reply individually to guest reviews, I wanted to take a second to say one thing here. If you've read any of my other stories, you probably already know that I tend to focus heavily on the emotional component of the Jane/Kurt relationship. While I can understand that some people want to see the two of them advance their physical relationship much faster than the way I write it, that is simply not my focus – nor is it going to be. This is not to say that they won't_ _ **have**_ _a physical relationship, but the pace is slow, and you're not going to find it spelled out in explicit detail past a certain point. This is just the way I write._

 _I know that there are plenty of fanfics in which the author writes them moving much faster than I do. While I appreciate the enthusiasm that some of you have for them to move faster, I put a lot of work into writing them the way I do. As far as I'm concerned, there is so much more to Jane and Kurt – or any characters in any good story, really – than just getting them into bed together. If your takeaway from my writing is simply frustration that they are moving too slowly (and if I have misinterpreted this, then I apologize), then I fear that you are missing the_ _ **emotional**_ _intimacy that I'm trying to create between them. However, to each his own. I just wanted to explain_ _ **my**_ _perspective._

 _Okay, enough about that. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)_

…..

They were sitting on the edge of the bed side by side, her right hand still tentatively resting on his left. Once again, the exhaustion she'd felt as she'd walked up the stairs came back to her full force. Turning to look across the room, she leaned her head lightly against his shoulder.

Turning in surprise and looking down at her, he chuckled slightly, asking, "Tired?"

"Nope," she replied as if she was completely serious.

"Liar," he said quietly, grinning.

"I'm _fine,_ " she insisted, not moving her head from his shoulder. It suddenly felt very, very heavy, and he felt her suddenly leaning more of her weight against him.

"Of course you are," he said soothingly, wondering how anyone could be so stubborn. She _knew_ that he didn't believe her, and yet she continued to insist… But he knew why she didn't want to sleep, and he sympathized. He would've done anything to help her, if only he knew _what_ to do.

"I'm going to go get ready for bed," he told her, gently pulling himself away from her in the hopes that she would pick up her head. "We'll continue this discussion after that. Okay?"

Sighing dramatically, she nodded and did indeed pick up her head. "Okay," she replied quietly, feeling exhaustion in every part of her body. The sensation made her tense slightly, however, thinking about the fact that she was going to have to somehow keep herself awake.

Glancing at her one more time, he stood up tiredly and walked to his bag, still sitting on the floor, and took out his toothbrush and toothpaste, heading for the door. She thought that he looked less tense than he had a few minutes ago, and she only hoped that he was going to be okay sleeping in this house that was so full of painful memories – this room especially.

As soon as he closed the door, she walked to her bag and got her own pajamas, quickly changing and putting away her clothes. He hadn't come back in yet so she walked to the window and looked out into the blackness. She couldn't see whatever it was that the window overlooked at this hour, of course. There was no street light nearby, and all the lights on the houses nearby were out. She thought that she could make out the shape of another house in the shadows… Probably Taylor's house.

Sighing, she turned around from the window and stood looking around slowly at the room. It was a strange feeling, like she'd stepped back in time. From Kurt's reaction especially, she was pretty sure that nothing had been touched in this room in years, possibly since the last time Kurt himself had set foot there.

 _What must that be like?_ she wondered. _To be able to step back into your own past._

 _To_ _ **have**_ _a past_ , the voice in her head added. At one time, that thought would have rendered her unable to function for quite some time, but now, having been conditioned to the idea, she only winced a little at the thought.

The door opened again then, and he stepped back in from the hall, closing the door silently after him. The look on his face had been closed off when he'd opened the door, as if he'd steeled himself against something, but when he saw her standing there, he smiled.

"Hey," he said quietly. Amusingly enough, he was pretty sure that they were both evaluating each other to determine if each of them was okay. He was relieved to see that she had at least put on her pajamas. It wasn't a guarantee that she had changed her mind about sleeping, of course, but it was a step in the right direction.

"Hey," she replied, feeling just a little bit awkward. "I'll go brush my teeth," she said, bending down to get her small toiletries bag from her duffle bag and disappearing into the hallway.

The door closed softly behind her and he looked around. Feeling himself almost holding his breath, he looked around the room hesitantly only very hesitantly. He willed himself not to think too hard about any of it, knowing that he was just barely hanging on at the moment.

 _It's going to be a long night,_ he thought. Looking around, he realized that he'd left the sleeping bag downstairs, so he slipped back out into the dark hallway and walked slowly down the creaky stairs to retrieve it from the entryway. With the bedding in hand, he made his way back upstairs.

Jane was surprised when she'd come back from the bathroom and he wasn't there, and she wondered if he'd changed his mind about where he was going to sleep. She walked slowly into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, and walked to the bookshelf. Considering the idea of reading something to pass the time, if Kurt had, indeed, decided to sleep elsewhere and therefore the light wouldn't be keeping him up, she examined her choices. Of course, she'd never heard of any of the books that she saw there, but the titles sounded faintly reminiscent of what she imagined that a teenaged boy might read. Sighing with what felt a lot like defeat, she wandered back to sit down on the bed, leaving the books where they were.

 _What did you expect? Of course you haven't heard of them,_ she reminded herself. _Why would you have?_

While this was a logical question, it made her sigh again, heavily this time. Of course, there were only two things to do about this problem. Accept that she knew nothing about the books or decide to read them – though not necessarily tonight. While she had noticed that she very much enjoyed reading and usually she certainly didn't lack for free time, the option didn't appeal to her just then. There was too much else going on in her head for her to be able to concentrate on a book, after all.

Kurt pushed the door open then, his arms full of the bedding from the car, and saw Jane sitting cross-legged on the bed. The sight made him smile, and he was surprised to find that he felt slightly relieved, though his relief abated slowly when he saw her expression.

 _Did you think she was going to bolt? Out into the snow?_ he asked himself. _Of course she's there._

No, it wasn't that he had expected her to disappear. Seeing her there in front of him was just a welcome sight. Her face, however, suggested that something was on her mind. That wasn't too much of a surprise, of course. They both seemed to have a lot on their minds just then.

"Hey," he said quietly, remembering how thin the walls had seemed when he was a kid, and how loud noises had carried so easily through them. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, her expression softening into one that looked more like she actually _was_ okay. "You?"

He gathered the bedding in one hand so that he could ease the door closed with the other, then turned slowly and stepped into the room. There wasn't a lot of floor space to work with, and the longest area to be found was just beside the bed.

"If I set this up here, do you think you can remember not to step on me?" he asked, standing a few feet in front of her. Her mouth curled into a smile as she nodded, though she made a mental note that he hadn't answered her question. It could have meant nothing, or it could have meant that he wasn't fine.

"I think so," she replied. He felt her watching him carefully as he bent down to spread out the sleeping bag and the blankets it contained on the floor beside the bed.

She was concerned about him, of course, but at the same time she was also uneasy about the fact that he was going to sleep on the floor beside the bed. _Not_ because he was too close, but because he felt too far away.

 _You're crazy,_ she told herself. _He's literally what? Three feet away at the most?_

And yet she couldn't help the ache in her chest, because he might as well have been a mile away, or ten.

 _He's right there,_ the voice in her head said in exasperation. _If you want to say something to him,_ _ **just say it**_ _._

 _Say_ _ **what**_ _?_ she asked herself stubbornly. _That he's much too far away? That's crazy. I'm not saying that._

 _Then you're going to end up exactly this far away from him. You know that, right?_ the voice asked her. She sighed inwardly, trying to keep the sound from being audible.

When he had the sleeping bag laid out, he looked back up at her, surprised at the change that had come over her face. She'd been smiling at him when last he'd looked at her – okay, not quite a genuine smile, but a small one nonetheless. Now, it was clear from her expression that something was wrong, but she didn't seem to want to talk about it.

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked gently, watching as the corners of her mouth tilted upwards just a little.

 _Damn you, Weller,_ she thought. _Of course he can tell that something's wrong._

"I'm probably just overtired," she replied, realizing immediately that this directly contradicted her insistence that she wasn't tired. _Not that he believed that anyway_ , she consoled herself weakly, waiting for his reaction.

He hadn't believed her when she'd said that she was fine not sleeping before, or that she wasn't tired, and he didn't believe her now when she said that the look on her face was due to being overtired, either. For whatever reason – call it a special intuition he had when it came to Jane – he just _knew_. But he didn't want to push her. To say that it had been a long, emotional day would be an understatement, and it was now pretty close to being tomorrow. No doubt Sawyer would wake them up at the crack of dawn, so they really needed to get some sleep, if possible.

 _Speaking of being woken up early_ , he thought, as he crossed the room to turn the lock on the inside of the doorknob. The lock that he'd never been allowed to lock as a kid, for fear of risking his father's temper.

"Insurance against small, Christmas obsessed elves bursting in at sunrise," he said quietly as she looked up when he moved towards the door.

Nodding in understanding, she asked, "But won't he just pound on the door, then?"

Kurt grinned, nodding his head, imagining his nephew doing exactly that. "Yeah, probably… but at least it'll deter him for a few seconds. It's all we can hope for," he replied, amused with the image of the situation that he'd created in his head.

Jane was nodding back at him with a forced smile, which was better than looking like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Reaching for the light switch, he couldn't help but wish he had some excuse to get closer to her… but he was absolutely not going to put her in such an awkward position, no matter how much he _wanted_ to believe that it was the right thing to do to keep her from having a nightmare. No matter how much he had to wonder if he'd really be able to sleep in this room that was so full of the ghosts of his past. Pushing all that from his mind, he attempted to focus on her again. After all, when he filled his mind with Jane, there was little to no room for his own preoccupations, his own worries.

He flicked the light off, and for a second he couldn't see anything as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He stood still, peering into the darkness and waiting for the shadows to appear. He remembered that there hadn't been anything between himself and the sleeping bag in the middle of the floor, so he began to take small, tentative steps in that direction.

"It's always strange that at first, when you turn off a light, you can't see anything, and then after a while, things come into focus again," he said as his toe found the edge of the sleeping bag, and he lowered himself down to the ground.

His voice had slowly moved towards her, even though she could only see the faintest shadow of him as her eyes adjusted to the dark. When he knelt down to get into the sleeping bag, she could just make out the outline of him. Now she assumed that he was laying down, though she had lost sight of him, possibly blocked from view by the edge of the bed if not simply lost to her in the darkness. Though she knew that he was only a short distance from her, he felt farther away than ever, and the ache in her chest only intensified.

 _Once again, you_ _ **could**_ _say something_ , the voice in her head told her impatiently.

 _Oh yeah? What?_ she asked. _"Oh hey Kurt, why don't you come sleep up here with me?"_

 _That would work,_ the voice replied, ignoring her sarcasm.

 _That is_ _ **not**_ _going to happen,_ she assured it stubbornly.

 _Suit yourself,_ the voice told her as she resigned herself to the distance between them.

Shadows were now coming into focus in the weak light that was shed by the glow of the alarm clock sitting on the dresser. When she realized that she couldn't see him because of the angle at which she was sitting, she scooted herself forward slightly on the bed until she _could_ just barely make out his shadow. She could just barely see that he was lying on his back, looking up at her, one arm bent and tucked behind his head on his pillow.

"Jane, I know that I can't convince you to sleep, or even to rest, if you're really that against it, but…" he began slowly, "I wish you would try." He knew that if there was one word that described her perfectly, it was stubborn.

 _And compassionate. And impatient. And strong. And… beautiful._

 _Focus,_ he told himself. _You're getting a little sidetracked._

She stared at him in the dark, still sitting up with her legs crossed over each other, her back rigid. And yet, she could feel the exhaustion in every single one of her cells, or so it seemed.

"I'm fine," she whispered in the dark, wondering if he could see her clearly enough to see the stubborn expression on her face, or to see that even _she_ didn't believe her own words.

 _He doesn't need to see you to know that. He_ _ **knows**_ _you, after all._

"I can't really see you that well in the dark, but I still know that you're lying through your teeth," he replied immediately. His tone wasn't unkind. On the contrary, it was calm and familiar, as if he was simply reminding her good-naturedly about something that he knew that she already knew.

 _Dammit,_ she thought.

Before she could stop herself, she chuckled quietly, then cursed the fact that she'd just given herself away. _What does it matter?_ she asked herself. _He didn't believe you anyway._

He sighed, the sound turning into quiet laughter. "You're so stubborn, it's infuriating sometimes," he told her in a voice that had turned low and gravely from the lateness of the hour and just pure exhaustion. Said another way, his words could have come off sounding critical, but instead, his tone was warm and soothing, almost as if he was paying her a compliment. Besides, she generally took _stubborn_ as a compliment, anyway… which, she knew, only proved that she didn't know what a compliment actually _was_. She knew that _stubborn_ wasn't supposed to be one… except that coming from him, it sounded like one.

"I could say the same thing about you," she replied in the same gentle tone, and was rewarded with the sound of his laughter once again.

"Yeah, I guess that's true," he conceded, his words cutting off at the end as she heard him yawn. "I think I'm about to pass out, here. I see that you're still sitting up, up there," he said sleepily. "You going somewhere?"

"No," she replied stubbornly. "Just… not sleeping."

She pulled her legs up in front of her and hugged her knees to her chest. Though she _wanted_ to sleep, she liked the _idea_ of resting her mind, not having to think for several hours or more, the reality of it just didn't seem worth the trade-off.

"Well, you can lay down and still not sleep, you know," he observed, obviously trying another technique to get her to fall asleep, most likely thinking that if she laid down, she wouldn't be able to help herself. "But, you know…" He yawned again, then continued on as if nothing had stopped him. "Suit yourself. Just…"

He paused, and she heard hesitation in his voice, something that was unusual for him. "… stick around?"

The fact that the inflection in his words formed a question wasn't lost on her. _Does he think I'm going somewhere? Is he_ _ **afraid**_ _that I'm going somewhere?_ She wondered about this for a second. _Why would he think that?_

 _Well, for one thing, you don't exactly look like someone who's sticking around,_ she reminded herself.

 _Okay, fair enough_ , she conceded.

"Of course," she replied. "Where would I _go_?" She heard him chuckle because, of course, there was nowhere _to_ go. Then without taking time to overthink it, she added, "There's nowhere I'd rather be." She realized after she'd said it that her words could have been misinterpreted. It wasn't that she wanted more than anything to be in Kurt's childhood bedroom, the one that was making him so uncomfortable. Or that she wanted to be sitting there on Christmas Eve afraid to sleep because she didn't want any noise she might make because of her nightmares to wake up Sarah and Sawyer – or Kurt, for that matter.

What she _had_ meant was that she liked being there with _him_. She wondered if he would know what she'd meant. He _usually_ did. Or would he think that she was just saying it to be nice? Her head was starting to hurt from the speed with which her thought were moving. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that there was _one_ place where she'd rather be… closer to him.

A quiet chuckle escaped him then, in response to what she'd said, maybe, but it was not a sound that said that he found anything funny. On the contrary, the sound conveyed sadness. "I can think of somewhere I'd rather be," he said quietly, but didn't elaborate. He didn't want to admit to her that he'd prefer to be back in the car, tucked into the sleeping bag together – minus the hypothermia, of course… though it _had_ had its benefits… He almost smiled to himself at that thought. _Almost._ Laying in that same sleeping bag alone... now there was just too much empty space inside, and too many demons lurking much too close to him.

 _You're an FBI agent, for God's sake!_ he reminded himself. _Get ahold of yourself._

The problem was that he'd closed the door on this part of his life so long ago, that now that it was open, it was as though he didn't remember how to get it closed again.

Kurt hadn't said so, but she knew what he'd meant. It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd rather be back at his own apartment than there in this place that held such bad memories for him. That was completely understandable, after all. She'd really have preferred to have been there, too, now that she thought about it. After all, anywhere where he would be happier would have made her happier as well.

He was staring in her direction in the darkness, watching her as carefully as he could, considering the darkness, listening to her breathing. Okay, it was better than if she'd been in another room, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that she was too far away.

 _Get a grip, Weller,_ he told himself. _Either that, or do something about it._

It had been one thing when he couldn't see her when they'd been all the way inside the dark sleeping bag together to preserve heat, when she'd been laying on top of him. This was nothing like that. It almost made him want to get up and go sit beside her, just so he could reassure himself that she was there, and that she was okay… but he knew that they both needed to sleep, and that wouldn't be _easier_ to achieve if they were sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed.

 _Or would it?_

Even though he willed himself with everything inside him to stay awake and figure the whole thing out, exhaustion won out in the end. Jane heard the change in his breathing when it did, and she knew that she was now the last one in the house who was awake. The clock across the room said 1:47am, and she sighed, knowing that the remaining hours until the household awoke would feel far longer than they actually were.

Attempting to think of something to pass the time, without meaning for it to, her mind settled on earlier that day, in the car. Specifically, the part when they'd been inside the sleeping bag together. She was dismayed to realize that she was smiling, the thought of the particular part of the day filling her with a warm glow of happiness.

 _You could have frozen to death,_ the voice in her head protested. _Why in the world would this count as a memory that's so happy, you're afraid to let yourself recall it?_

 _Well, we didn't,_ she thought with a shrug. _And being there was just… right._

Though she knew that this train of thought was a dangerous one, she couldn't seem to stop herself. Therefore, she decided that just this once, she would allow herself the luxury of thinking about something that made her happy. The risk of doing so, of course, was one she had drilled into herself mercilessly, and yet she happily ignored it.

 _Do not let yourself think about him that way. It gives him too much power to hurt you._

How many times had she reminded herself of this? Clearly, she had failed at this spectacularly several days ago already, though. At this point, things were different than they had been for the past few months. _Weren't they?_ **He** was different. _Wasn't he?_ She wondered about this suddenly, desperate for it to be true. Couldn't she safely let herself believe that he actually cared about her, now that the evidence was staring her in the face – or had been, until he'd fallen asleep…?

 _That's what you thought last time,_ the voice reminded her, and the smile immediately dropped from her face. In her mind, she wiped the slate of the image that had been there – the two of them pressed together in the sleeping bag in order to stay warm, to stay alive. She should not have let herself enjoy that so much. She _could not_ allow herself to enjoy that so much.

Scooting herself back onto the middle of the bed, she hugged her knees tightly around herself again, so tightly that, had it been another person holding onto her that hard, she would have fought to free herself. But no, she simply held on tighter, until her arms and shoulders began to ache. Feeling her muscles begin shaking from the exertion after a few minutes, she wondered how much longer she could do this. Her mind was at once both frantic and perfectly clear.

This was the problem with the middle of the night, at least when she wasn't at her own safe house… there were no distractions from her thoughts, and her thoughts were not kind to her. On the contrary, while she couldn't say that she preferred the CIA's brand of torture, she had her own version which was arguably just as painful, if only in a different way.

 _You should have told him,_ the voice chided her.

 _I couldn't,_ she insisted.

 _You_ _ **could**_ _have,_ it argued. _You_ _ **chose**_ _not to._

 _No,_ she thought, shaking her head and feeling herself dangerously close to tears. No other thoughts came to her, just the same word over and over in her head, getting louder and louder, pressing harder and harder on the inside of her skull, until she didn't even remember why she was saying it.

 _NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO._

She could feel tears on her cheeks then, and it was almost as though she was watching herself from outside of her body, like she was seeing herself as someone else would have seen her, watching herself break down completely, even though she was no longer quite sure _why_ it was happening. By that point, it didn't matter.

And then, out of pure exhaustion, Jane fell in a heap on her side against the relatively soft mattress – softer than the floor where Kurt slept, in any case - unable to hold herself upright anymore. Her brain and her body had simply reached the point where they could no longer function, like an electronic device whose battery had been drained and simply turned off until it was plugged in again.

Neither Jane nor Kurt slept _well_ , but mercifully, both of them slept, albeit fitfully. Sadly, it was only barely over an hour later when this changed. This wasn't very much sleep, of course, and certainly not enough for a regular day, much less the draining one that they had just had.

Just after 3:00am, Jane was jolted awake by the same nightmare as the previous night, which was the same one as nearly _every_ night, really. In less than half a second, every muscle in her body was tense and rigid and she once again sat bolt upright, gasping for air, just as she usually did. There was a loud, shrill scream that echoed in her head even after she knew that she was awake – the noise didn't fade with her dream this time, and she once again sat with her knees bent in front of her, except this time she clamped her hands over her ears to attempt to muffle the noise, her head pressed down against her knees. It didn't work, of course. That was the problem with a noise being _inside her head_ – there was no real way to stop it, except for her to calm down. Despite how many times she'd woken up this way, she was still _not_ good at calming down.

After a few long, tense minutes, the noise finally faded to what was more the level of background noise, though it hadn't gone away completely. Scooting herself to the edge of the bed, she clamped her hands against the side, as Kurt had done a few hours before when he'd been lost in _his_ thoughts. She took gulps of air, trying to make as little noise as possible while also trying to catch her breath.

 _Kurt_.

Just saying his name in her head helped – a little bit, anyway. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to focus on him, laying there on the floor in front of her. It took her a few minutes to realize that there was something… _off._ Though it had been hard to see in the dark initially, she now saw that his face was contorted in a way she'd never seen before. He usually had such tight control over his expression, even when she knew that his emotions were raging inside him, but this… Now he looked visibly upset.

"No," he moaned in a low voice. And just like that, she almost forgot about her own nightmare, because it was suddenly clear to her that he was having one of his own. As horrible as hers were, they had become commonplace. Not that she was _used to_ them, but they weren't exactly a surprise anymore. She had a feeling that for Kurt, this one might be even more jarring than hers were for her, simply because it wasn't something that happened to him every day. At least, she didn't _think_ they were.

Before she could think about what she could do for him, his eyes suddenly opened, his entire body tense, alert, his breathing labored. He stared at the ceiling for a few long, painful seconds before he looked around, blinking in confusion. Jane sat frozen, watching him, not knowing what to do.

 _Do something!_ her mind screamed, but for some reason, all she could do was watch him.

It had been years since Kurt had had that dream, but he remembered it well. His father. Taylor. Darkness. Indistinct shapes and sounds. Moans, screams… And then his father, scraping mud off of his boots, looking up at him with an expression of satisfaction. _Goddamn satisfaction._ He'd been proud of himself, and he hadn't even tried to hide it from Kurt.

Kurt knew that it was a dream. He _knew_. And yet, somehow that didn't make it less terrifying. He'd woken up at the same point as he always had – apparently, this dream had to play itself all the way through before it released its hold on him, like some sort of horror movie that played in his mind. Staring at the ceiling, he lay there, the image of his father with that horrible grin on his face looming over him, filling his field of vision and clouding out everything else.

 _Go away!_ he wanted to scream, even though he knew that his father wasn't actually _there,_ that he had died months ago. It was several minutes before his present surroundings faded in, his eyes adjusting to the darkness enough for him to see that he was back _there_. No wonder he'd had that dream.

That was when he noticed Jane, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him, looking terrified and breathing hard. He remembered how she'd looked the night before, when he'd found her after her nightmare, and he couldn't help but think that she looked even more terrified this time.

"Jane," he said in a shaky breath, unable to form any other words just then as his mind continued to spin a million miles an hour.

She exhaled in the dark, almost as if she was trying to laugh, except that the noise revealed just how badly she was shaking, sitting there above him.

 _I'm shaking?_ she asked herself in surprise. _I didn't even know_.

He felt the familiar pain in his chest, the one that came anytime Jane was upset, he realized. This was the part where he always comforted her, except that he couldn't quite wrap his brain around forming words just then – besides her name.

"Are you okay?" she asked him in a shaky whisper, forcing the words out once she realized that he was worse off than she'd expected. If he was unable to bring himself to comfort her… that showed just how much his dream had affected him.

He made a noise then, like a mirthful laugh except that it came out more as a heavily labored breath. That was her answer. He was not anywhere near okay.

 _Neither are you,_ her mind reminded her.

 _No,_ she agreed, _but it's my turn._

Sliding her feet carefully to the ground so that she didn't step on him, she stepped over the sleeping bag slowly, trying to figure out exactly what she was going to do.

His first thought was that she was going to leave the room, and his chest clenched painfully. The urge to reach out and stop her was so strong that he almost did just that, but stopped himself just in time.

However, instead of going any farther, she sat down next to him, pushing the sleeping bag out of her way enough to find his hand and drawing it into her lap between both of hers.

"Hey," she said softly, thinking of how often he'd pulled her back from the edge. "Are you okay?"

There was silence for a few seconds as he contemplated his answer. But there was no point in trying to pretend. After all, he still wasn't breathing normally and he knew it. Besides, if there was one person in the entire world who would understand _not_ being okay, it was Jane.

"No," he whispered. Then, determined to tell her _something_ , he somehow managed to force a few more words out. "I… I haven't had that dream in _years_. It was…" His breathing increased again as he thought back on it, and he was shaking, unable to stop. When he closed his eyes, she felt her throat closing up and the pressure in her head increasing instead of decreasing as she watched the signs of whatever was still happening before her eyes. She couldn't tell if her reaction to watching him break down was because of her own dream, or if it was simply _that_ hard for her to watch him suffering like this. Or maybe both.

Squeezing her hands hard around his, she raised the three of them up to her forehead, pushing her elbows down hard against her knees for support and leaning her head forward so that her forehead pushed against their joined hands. She was shaking harder now, not knowing the right thing to do. What _was_ there that she could possibly do, after all?

She hadn't realized that she was crying, and she wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually her heartrate began to slow and her breathing came back towards something resembling normal. Lowering their clenched hands, she opened her eyes to see Kurt's pained face watching her. He still didn't seem to be breathing normally, gulping just slightly as if he'd recently been crying, too. Maybe he had. Her eyes fell closed again and her head fell down towards her chest, their hands now more loosely grasped together in her lap.

"Jane," she heard him whisper, and opened her eyes slowly in response.

 _So much for comforting_ _ **him**_ _,_ she thought in annoyance with herself.

For a second, the two of them just stared into each other's eyes. And then, just like that, no other words were necessary.

 _I can't do this,_ she thought. _Not like this._

Kurt watched her in surprise as she pulled down the zipper on the sleeping bag halfway, let go of it, and then stopped to look back up at him, a question in her eyes. She simply could not think of anything else that she could do that would make things better, for either of them, and yet… still she hesitated. Of course she did. Because this just wasn't…

 _No,_ she told herself. _You tried that logic. It clearly didn't work._

He was surprised, but he didn't hesitate to push back the flap that she had just unzipped. Smiling sadly at her, he wanted to say something, _anything,_ really, to let her know that it was okay, but words failed him just then, and he had to settle for looking deep into her eyes and trusting that, as she always seemed to, she would understand.

She moved slowly, pushing her feet into the sleeping bag first and then maneuvering herself much the same way she had in the car, reaching carefully out of the sleeping bag with her left hand to zip it back up before lowering herself gradually so that all of her weight was on him, pressing her head against his chest and hearing his heartbeat, which immediately began to calm her.

Without thinking about it, his arms were already around her back, he noticed, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Are you okay?" she asked him again, her voice not shaking _quite_ as much anymore.

"No," he replied sounding even more broken because of the fact that he was usually so together. "Are you?"

"No," she whispered sadly, shaking her head gently against him.

"Nightmare?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, so quietly that he almost didn't hear her.

He was already holding onto her, and just then she felt like his arms had tightened around her, which she didn't mind at all. To her, it felt as if he was holding on for dear life, as if he was afraid that she would change her mind about where she was.

"We'll be okay," he said softly, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

Her stomach flopped nervously, and for a second she wondered what in the world she was doing. She had promised herself that she would _not_ do this exact thing, and yet here she was.

 _But… why?_ the voice asked her. _Why make such a promise? Isn't this what you_ _ **wanted**_ _? Does it really seem to you like he_ _ **doesn't**_ _want you exactly where you are? If you both want the same thing… then what's the problem?_

Finding that she couldn't answer the question in her mind, she finally allowed herself to simply relax. Because… why not?

He felt the difference the moment she let herself relax, and was surprised at how much he liked the feeling it gave him. Getting Jane to relax after a nightmare usually took a Herculean effort and much, much more time, but somehow this time it had been as "easy" as having him have his own nightmare, and needing comfort just as much as she had.

 _Easy_. _Right_. He almost smiled at the thought that he'd just called this easy. Obviously, his exhaustion was messing with his sense of humor, or maybe just his sense of judgement. Just then, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that Jane was relaxing in his arms, which meant that he was beginning to relax as well.

Her eyes were closed, and she cleared her mind of everything but the sensation of where she was. Laying this way had seemed like the most awkward thing in the world at first, earlier that afternoon when it had been a necessity, and yet now… suddenly there was absolutely nothing awkward about it. And though she could feel herself on the edge of the familiar abyss, the one she had fallen into in her mind so many times, as she now stood at the edge looking into it, it suddenly got farther away. No, _she_ was the one moving, moving steadily away from it in fact, being pulled gently backward until she could no longer even see it in the distance. Feeling herself begin to drift off to sleep, this time she gave herself permission to do so. After all, this time she knew that was safe.

It hadn't surprised him that she'd had another nightmare. On the contrary, he'd sort of expected it. He _was_ surprised at his nightmare, however. Come to think of it, given the memories that that house had dredged up, he shouldn't have been surprised by _his_ nightmare, either. The fact that they had both seemed about equally upset, neither one able to say anything comforting to the other… he certainly hadn't expected _that._ Still, as much as neither of them had been able to find the right words, he found the fact that she had just fallen asleep against him – within seconds of joining him in the sleeping bag, in fact – to be all the comfort that he needed.

Closing his eyes tentatively, waiting to see if his father's face still loomed behind his eyes, he found with relief that the man was gone. Instead, there was only the warmth that came from holding onto Jane. In another few seconds, he had fallen asleep as well.


	21. Our Turn

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)_**

It seemed like only minutes later that the sound of a knock at the bedroom door jerked them both awake. Seconds later, they heard Sarah's voice. "Kurt, I've kept your darling nephew entertained as long as I could, but in another five minutes he's going to be pounding on this door, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Got it," he said as loudly as he could manage, his voice still hoarse and his head foggy from the night before. Eyes still barely open, he turned his head slowly, blinking as he looked down in the direction where he felt Jane snuggled against his right shoulder. He smiled without even realizing it. She'd shifted slightly during the night, and was laying a little more next to him than on top of him than she'd started out, her right arm draped across his chest and their legs tangled together. Both of them were still completely clothed, of course, but even so, it was quite an intimate way to wake up.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly as she lifted her head just enough to look at him, smiling shyly. What exactly was she supposed to _say?_

"Merry Christmas," he whispered as the events of last night slowly came back to him little by little. He remembered her insistence that she wasn't going to sleep, his nightmare, and then their mutual breakdowns, which had led to them ending up… like this. He felt the smile on his face grow when she smiled back at him.

 _Christmas_ , she thought. _For a minute, I'd forgotten…_

"Merry Christmas," she replied just as quietly, feeling like she'd just had the best night's sleep of her life. "I guess that means… we have to get up?"

"Afraid so," he said, sighing in disappointment.

His right arm had wound around her back, and his fingers now inched upward until they found the neckline of her t-shirt, stopping where they found bare skin and moving almost imperceptibly back and forth on her upper back. His left hand came to rest on her right forearm, the one that was draped across him, squeezing gently.

 _I thought it would be awkward…_ she thought in surprise. _But it's not._

"Too bad," she replied. "This is kind of… perfect." She realized only after the words came out exactly what she'd said, and she blushed slightly, wondering if it had been too much.

The combination of the words that had just slipped out of her mouth along with the intense smile on his face made her look away nervously, only looking back at him hesitantly a minute later.

"It is," he agreed, leaning down until his face rested against the top of her head. After a minute, however, she felt him shifting, lifting his head, and remembered that they were supposed to be getting up.

Wanting to say one more thing to him before they got up, she cleared her throat and looked up at him, suddenly nervous. "Um, I feel like I should…" She took a deep breath and tried again. "Last night…" she started, trailing off immediately when the words that had sounded perfectly articulate in her head seemed to evaporate.

He looked into her face in surprise, and saw the nervousness in her eyes that hadn't been there only a minute before. "Yeah… Thank you," he said, nodding seriously and keeping his eyes on her. He purposely ignored the apology she was trying to give.

For a second she was confused, because she'd been about to say "I'm sorry," but he'd spoken before she'd had a chance.

"What? Oh, no… I…" She shook her head, trying to recover. He didn't understand. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," he said, shaking his head, the Just For Jane smile on his face in full force. "I don't think we would be able to say who needed who more last night – _not_ that it's a contest, of course… But Jane," he said sincerely, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "that was why I was in this room, remember? So that I was here if you needed me. I was just… too far away." He paused, then added, "Well, that and having a nightmare of my own. There's… a lot of memories here that I guess I wasn't quite as over as I thought I was." He continued to look at her intently, and she felt almost as though he was reading her mind, like he'd done so many other times.

Unable to look into his eyes and say what she wanted to say at the same time, she looked away then, before whispering, "This was where I wanted to be from the beginning." Her eyes darted back up to him nervously, unsure what his reaction would be.

His smile widened then, until it seemed to take over his face. She didn't fully understand why until, after a short time when he simply looked at her as if she'd just handed him the moon, he replied, "Me, too." She bit her lip, inhaling sharply in surprise as, for a second, she had trouble breathing.

 _How is it possible?_ she wondered, feeling what little remained of the walls she'd built to protect herself from him crumbling.

"So," he continued evenly, "maybe tonight we just skip the part where we stubbornly refuse to communicate, and therefore let ourselves have nightmares." She tried to imagine just going to sleep beside him in the first place, instead of ending up there in the middle of the night when they were had both broken down completely.

"That seems like a good idea," she said softly, smiling tiredly.

"May I make one request, though?" he asked.

She just looked at him in surprise and nodded. "Sure," she replied slowly.

"It would be great if we could _not_ sleep on the floor next time. After all, it seems silly when there's a bed right _there._ " He gestured toward the bed as if she hadn't know where it was, his grin contagious. As she looked at him, she felt a smile creeping across her face at the same rate that the deep crimson color was taking over from the thought that he wanted to go to sleep beside her that night. All she could do was to nod her head. This made him chuckle for a few seconds before his expression suddenly became serious.

"So… about what you said before? Don't you dare be sorry," he whispered, looking at her almost urgently. "Okay? _Not_ for something like that." Nodding once again, she felt a familiar prickling sensation behind her eyes, and she leaned her head down against him, breathing deeply.

He squeezed his arms around her more tightly then, in what simply felt to her like a hug. She was, therefore, quite surprised when both of his arms tightened around her waist, and right away she felt herself being lifted up, shifted until she was laying squarely back on top of him again.

She lifted herself up on her elbows, once again putting her forearms down against the sleeping bag and resting her elbows against his shoulders as she had earlier, and looked down at him in confusion.

"You _could_ say that I did that because it's easier to get to the zipper to open up the sleeping bag this way, since you _were_ sort of blocking it" he said with a grin. She just shook her head and smiled at him. Smiling was something she'd been doing a _lot_ of lately. At that moment, it didn't really matter to her _why_ he'd lifted her back up.

"Or," he added quickly, "You _could_ say… that that's just the best excuse I could think of." With an exaggerated wink, he squeezed his arms around her once more.

She was sure that she was dreaming. Surely, nothing this good would have happened to her in real life. "Just so you know… you don't need _any_ excuse," she told him quietly and then watched as he beamed up at her.

"Oh?" he asked, arching his eyebrows and acting surprised. He'd suspected as much, but it was nice to hear her say it. "Duly noted," he replied, pretending to be serious for a second and then once again breaking out into a grin.

"Come on," he whispered. "Before the rabid elf that's drunk with the power to wake us up shows up to bang on our door." This made them both chuckle.

His left arm was securely wrapped around her and his right hand moved to fiddle with the zipper on the side of the sleeping bag, working it down until it was about half way, far enough to allow them to crawl out.

Sighing heavily then, she stared into his eyes for several seconds. She thought about kissing him, but a few things stopped her. First was the knowledge that neither of them had brushed their teeth yet. Second… that one was harder to explain. It was more just a feeling she had… that this strange acceleration of things between them in one way, and the fact that she'd ended up laying on top of him to start the second day that they were even on comfortable _speaking_ terms, made her want to proceed more slowly in other ways.

They had kissed before, of course, and she knew now that it was almost certain to happen again, probably sooner than later. She just saw no reason to rush. It had, after all, only been less than two days, and things between them… well, they had _always_ been complicated. It was going to take a long time for them to really, truly trust each other, no matter how easily she felt like they had fallen back into old feelings… and that was how it should be, really. After all, they weren't the same people they had been back then. Besides, anything that could appear out of nowhere could disappear just as easily – and neither of them wanted that.

Really, she didn't know what to think about anything anymore, only that at that moment, she felt happy. It was a very nice change.

After a few seconds hesitation, she pushed herself upward, away from him, already feeling too far away before she'd gotten one leg out of the sleeping bag. There were footsteps outside the door as they both stood up and stretched. They felt exactly like you'd expect after sleeping in a sleeping back on a hard floor, after half a night of exhaustion and nightmares, preceded by the trauma of almost freezing to death. In other words, they both felt a little rough. Still, they both smiled, feeling a glow that _neither_ of them could remember feeling before.

A minute later, there was an impatient pounding on the door. "Uncle Kurt! Are you up?" It was Sawyer, of course. Kurt was pretty sure that Sarah had managed to stall him for more than five minutes, for which he was grateful.

"I'll go make coffee," he whispered, leaning in close on his way past her to the door, which made a chill run down her spine.

"I'll be right down," she told him quietly with a smile, following him to the door. When Kurt opened the door, the boy was staring at him with delight. Surprise registered on her face when he saw Jane behind his uncle in the doorway, but he recovered quickly.

"Hey, buddy! Merry Christmas!" Kurt said excitedly to his nephew. Jane smiled at Sawyer a little awkwardly, but Sawyer, to his credit, recovered quickly and smiled back at her as if it was no big deal to find her there.

"Hi, Jane. Merry Christmas," Sawyer said over Kurt's shoulder with a smile. Kurt stepped aside slightly, his hand going to her lower back automatically to guide her forward.

"Merry Christmas," Jane replied.

Without missing a beat, Sawyer began talking animatedly to Kurt. He managed to get Sawyer to pause for half a second so that he could stick his head into the bathroom and grab his toothbrush, run water over it and dab it with toothpaste, brushing his teeth as his nephew dragged him downstairs. Jane, meanwhile, headed into the bathroom. It was going to be an interesting day, that much was for sure.

Kurt was overwhelmed by Sawyer's Christmas excitement, which Sarah seemed to be encouraging 100%. After leaving his toothbrush in the downstairs bathroom, where he'd managed to escape for less than a minute while Sawyer talked to Sarah about how much longer it would be until breakfast was ready, Kurt sat in the middle of the couch and paid close attention as his nephew caught him up on Christmas morning so far. His stocking had been full of goodies, and if the kid didn't believe in Santa, it was _not_ obvious from the excitement he displayed over each thing he'd found inside.

Considering the overwhelming stress of his job, there was something about seeing anyone, but especially someone as important to Kurt as his own nephew, so happy that warmed his heart. He would have said that the preceding twelve months had been among the hardest of his life – well, some of the last twelve months, anyway – and that was really saying something, considering what he had been through over the years. Just sitting there on the couch, watching Sawyer, and Sarah, for that matter, so happy… he just couldn't help but smile, feeling like the weight of the world had temporarily been lifted from his shoulders.

 _Might that feeling of elation also have something to do with a certain woman upstairs?_ the voice in his head asked innocently.

While still listening carefully to Sawyer, he smiled at the thought of Jane. It was that moment when she happened to appear, pausing in the doorway and watching the Weller men for a second with a faint but genuine smile on her face, before walking the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.

"Jane! Good morning, and Merry Christmas," Sarah bubbled happily as Jane approached. Her smile was contagious.

"Good morning, Sarah. Merry Christmas," Jane replied, then added, "Wow, something smells delicious." To Jane's surprise, it _appeared_ that Sarah had successfully baked something.

The wattage on Sarah's smile turned up even farther at Jane's words, and she glanced at the oven timer. "Thanks… and it's _almost_ ready, I think." Then, turning back to Jane, she looked at her more closely and asked, "So, how did you sleep?" The look on her face told Jane that there were more than a few other questions that she _wanted_ to ask, but she seemed to have settled for just the one.

"I had trouble falling asleep, but in the end, I slept very well, thanks," Jane replied, keeping her answer simple but truthful. Even though she still felt exhausted, what little sleep she _had_ gotten after she curled up with Kurt had been… _blissful_ was the only word that came to mind. They had made up for quantity with quality, it seemed.

The way Sarah smiled at her made her wonder if she knew more than Jane thought, but before Jane had a chance to wonder any further, Sarah looked out to see that the boys were momentarily occupied, and then said to Jane in a low voice, "I'm so glad things are better between you two, Jane. You really do make him happy. The change in him since the last time I saw him… I can't even explain it. It's pretty dramatic."

Jane blushed, her face erupting with a self-conscious grin, and she looked at the ground for a second, unsure what to say. She looked back up at Sarah, to find the other woman still beaming at her, and she just nodded. "Yeah… it was rough for a while," Jane replied carefully, her smile dimming slightly. She had no idea how much Sarah knew or didn't know, of course... but Sarah now knew, like the rest of them, that she wasn't Taylor Shaw, so she knew at least some of what had happened between herself and Kurt.

 _Speaking of Kurt…_ she thought.

As Jane glanced over her shoulder at Kurt, who happened to look up at her just then, their eyes met for a second before he returned his attention to Sawyer. "I guess we're lucky," Jane continued. "I mean, if you had told me even two days ago that I would be here, I wouldn't have believed it. But…" Jane shrugged, smiling at the thought of how everything had changed so fast. "Here I am."

Shaking her head, Sarah turned to check the timer once again. "Well, you guys are adorable together. I'm so happy for you," she added.

Jane squirmed slightly at Sarah's words, not _adorable_ , but _together_.

 _Are you going to deny that_ _ **something**_ _is going on?_ the voice in her head asked in disbelief. **_Really?_**

 _Well, no, I mean, I don't know, it's not as though… we haven't actually talked about it…_ That voice in her head was really relentless sometimes.

 _It doesn't matter if you haven't had a formal discussion,_ the voice replied. _There's something between you and you know it. There always_ _ **has**_ _been, even when it was messy. Just think about where you woke up this morning._

Jane knew that she was going to turn bright red if she let the voice in her head continue down this road, and was pretty sure that she was already turning pink just from Sarah's words alone.

"Thanks," Jane replied simply, supposing that she could accept that _something_ was indeed going on with them, even if she had no idea what. Then, hoping to change the subject, she asked, "Can I help with anything?"

Turning back towards her with a grin, Sarah said, "Just go check on the boys? And tell them breakfast will be ready in five minutes." She peaked into the over, then closed it again. "These are about to come out, then they'll just need to cool."

"That I can do," Jane told her, happy for an excuse to walk back over towards Kurt. Sawyer was _still_ going full force, talking a mile a minute while sitting on Kurt's right. Jane settled herself near Kurt on his left, perched on the edge of the couch and leaving a little bit of space between them – though not because she _wanted_ to, more because she wasn't sure how close to him she _should_ be sitting. His family was there, after all. And besides that, just as she'd just been arguing with herself about, she didn't know where anything stood with them. Of course, she _wanted_ to be closer to him, but who knew how far away _he_ wanted her to be…

 _Come on,_ the voice in her head said. If the voice had eyes, it would have been rolling them. _You know very well he wants you closer than that._

That question was answered rapidly as, once Jane was seated and without taking his eyes off of Sawyer, Kurt stretched his left arm around behind her without a word, securing his hand near her waist and tugging her closer to him, until the space she'd left between them was gone.

Turning towards her for just a second, he leaned down to murmur, "Much better," into her ear, then immediately turned back to his nephew.

Jane was so overwhelmed with warmth inside her by his small gesture that she almost forgot the message that she was supposed to deliver. Luckily, there was a break in the conversation just then, and Kurt, noticing the smell of breakfast for the first time as Sarah took it out of the oven, said, "Wow, something smells _good._ " He seemed genuinely shocked, just as Jane had been a few minutes before.

"Oh, right, I was supposed to tell you guys that breakfast will be ready in five minutes," Jane told them. Sawyer bounced up off the couch excitedly to go and see whatever it was that Sarah had just taken out of the oven, leaving the two of them alone again for a few quiet seconds. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck and felt him pull her a little closer.

Leaning his head down so that his face was nestled in her hair, he mumbled, "All good?"

She nodded her head, conscious that the motion moved his head along with it, which made her smile even more. "I literally can't remember ever being happier," she said quietly with a grin on her face.

Vibrations from his quiet laughter rumbled through him, and she could feel more than hear them. "Good," he replied. "That's going to be my goal from now on."

"You think you can keep topping _this_?" she asked, pretending to be skeptical, trying but failing to contain her smile.

"Is that a _challenge_?" he asked, sitting back and looking at her in mock disbelief.

"It's just a question," she replied innocently, her face betraying her.

"Hmmm…" he said, as if mulling it over. "I guess I'll just have to do my best."

Looking up at him for a few seconds, she paused and then whispered, "Your best is pretty damn good."

He was about to reply when Sarah's voice rang out from the kitchen, where the food was on the table. "Alright you two, I'd say to get a room… but, well, you _have_ one, and also, it's time for breakfast. So come over here and eat before the little monster here eats it all _for_ you."

They both looked up in surprise, having almost forgotten that they weren't there alone, and smiled sheepishly. Jane already felt herself blushing once again when Kurt tugged her closer to him for just a second, leaning down to her ear to whisper, "She's just jealous because we're so cute."

Jane almost laughed out loud as Kurt slowly released her so that they could stand up, her surprise leaving her on the couch for a few seconds longer than him. With that head start, he stood up and then turned to offer her his hand, which she took, and he helped pull her up to her feet.

For just a second, he squeezed her hand gently before releasing it, and they walked to the kitchen table to sit down across from Sarah and, most entertainingly, Sawyer, whose eyes were like saucers as he stared at the giant cinnamon roll on the plate in front of him.

Just before Jane and Kurt had a chance to sit down, Sarah jumped up from her chair. "Oh, Kurt, I almost forgot… can I see you in the other room for just a second?" Jane sat down, looking up at the siblings curiously, while Sawyer just looked pitifully at him mother, clearly desperate to eat.

Sarah saw the look on her son's face and laughed. "You guys eat, we'll be right back," she told them, and before Sarah and Kurt had left the room, Sawyer's mouth was full of cinnamon bun.

"Does your mom make these a lot?" Jane asked him, picking hers up at a more human speed to take a bite.

Sawyer looked thoughtful for a second and then, when he finished chewing, replied, "Well, she didn't until a couple months ago, but ever since then she's been practicing. At first, she used to always burn them, or they'd come out tasting bad… so those weren't any good. But lately she's gotten a _lot_ better at it, and _those_ practice ones have been good to eat. This is her best one so far, though." He looked back at the sticky bun in front of him excitedly, picked it up and took another large bite.

Jane just chuckled, thinking about how Sarah's "practice" had made Sawyer so happy. When you had the right people around you, happiness really didn't take much, it seemed. She wasn't quite used to having _any_ people around her yet – well, not people who she could be sure didn't mean her harm, anyway – but it certainly seemed like something that she _wanted_ to get used to. To be that secure and happy, knowing that you were loved… she was fairly sure, based on what she knew about Remi's past, that she had _never_ experienced that, even in the life that she couldn't really remember.

 _Maybe it's not too late,_ she thought tentatively. Her involuntary reaction was to block such a thought from entering her mind, but she tried to slowly ease her way over that wall that sprung up so automatically. _Maybe_ , she repeated slowly in her mind. _Just give the idea a chance. Just give_ _ **him**_ _a chance._

 _Fine_ , her cynical, guarded side replied grudgingly. _Maybe. I guess we can at least reserve judgement… for now._

 _That's all I ask,_ she told the voice.

She and Sawyer ate happily in silence for another minute, before Sarah returned from the other room and sat down, glancing at her son's empty plate and shaking her head.

"May I please have another one, mom?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, go pick one out," Sarah told him, rolling her eyes but smiling at him affectionately as Sawyer took his plate to the pan sitting on the counter. She turned to Jane then, and said, "Kurt will be right back. He just had to take care of something." The look on Sarah's face gave away more than she probably meant it to, and Jane guessed that the 'something' had to do with her, which made her extremely curious.

Jane hadn't heard him go upstairs, but she heard the noise of his feet on the stairs as he came back down just then, and then a few seconds later, Kurt re-entered the kitchen. His eyes went directly to Jane as he walked through the door, and as he paused behind her to pull out his chair with his right hand, his left hand rested lightly on her shoulder just for a second. The smile on her face was an involuntary reaction.

It wasn't anything major, just a very slight touch, but her entire back seemed to tingle for a second as his fingers rested against the cloth of her t-shirt. Then, just as quickly as it had landed there, it was gone, though the sensation of it lasted even after he'd sat down beside her. She was still working her way through her first cinnamon bun as Kurt settled himself in his chair and looked down at the food in front of him suspiciously.

"Did you make these?" he asked his sister teasingly.

Sarah just rolled her eyes. "Yes, _smarty pants_ ," she replied, using the child-friendly version of what she really wanted to call her brother, " _I_ made these. And these two are eating them and are still alive."

Kurt looked skeptically from Sawyer across the table from him to Jane beside him, then back to the food on his plate. "How are they, buddy?" he asked Sawyer, looking up.

Finishing the bite he'd been chewing first, Sawyer replied, "They're _really_ good, Uncle Kurt. Mom's been _practicing_ making these. Like, practicing a _lot_. This is my second one."

Next, Kurt turned to Jane, who'd been watching the exchange between the boys with a grin. When he turned to her, however, her smile changed from amusement to… She realized that she couldn't quite identify what the feeling was that her smile reflected, but as she looked into his eyes, she momentarily forgot once again that there was anyone there but the two of them.

"How are they, Jane? Should I eat it?" he asked her, their eyes locked together far more seriously than if they'd been just discussing a breakfast food.

"No," she said, absolutely seriously. "You shouldn't. But I'll be happy to eat it for you… You know, so you don't have to…" She managed to hold in her laughter for a few more seconds before her smile erupted and he looked at her, pretending to be shocked.

"I think you're trying to trick me," he said in mock horror. "Stay away from my cinnamon roll!" With that, he picked it up and took a tentative bite, nodding in approval when he realized that it did, indeed, taste good. Sawyer giggled uncontrollably at his uncle's silliness, and Jane laughed quietly as well, as Sarah rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her brother and Jane's little act, shaking her head.

"Hey," Jane said suddenly, poking Kurt in the side with her elbow. "I thought you said you were making coffee."

Kurt nodded slowly, finished chewing and replied, "Yes, I guess I did say that. Someone…" He paused and looked directly at Sawyer across the table from him. "… was talking my ear off so much I'm lucky I remembered my own name. I guess… I forgot about the coffee." He hung his head, pretending to be ashamed.

Jane shook her head in mock surprise. " _Forget_ coffee?" she asked dramatically. Kurt nodded again, sighing pathetically for dramatic effect.

"Alright you two, geez," Sarah said, grinning and shaking her head as she got up from the table. "Coffee is already made. I'll get you some."

"Oh, Sarah, I can get it. I didn't mean—" Jane started, but Sarah waved her hand at her.

"Not at all, silly. I'm loving the banter thing you two have going on. It's hilarious. Like having an in-house comedy team. Sawyer is hilarious, of course, but I know all of his material already." Sawyer grinned obligingly when he heard his mother call him hilarious, but kept eating.

A minute later, Sarah put mugs of coffee, along with creamer, a sugar bowl and spoons, down in front of Jane and Kurt.

"Thanks, Sarah," Jane said with a smile.

"Yeah, thanks," Kurt echoed. "She's impossible til she's had her coffee."

Jane slowly turned to look at him, her mouth wide open in shock that may or may not have been real, but smiling at the same time. She wacked him playfully on the shoulder, exclaiming, "Well you're impossible _all the time_!" before turning back to face her coffee, adding just the right ratio of sugar and creamer.

"Do you see this? She's so mean to me," Kurt said to his audience, who were both watching them from across the table, highly amused.

"You are not gonna win, Uncle Kurt," Sawyer said dead seriously, shaking his head. "You'd better apologize." Sarah burst out laughing at her son's comment, bringing her hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound, but too late.

Kurt looked at his nephew with his very best face of mock disappointment. "No? Really? Are you _sure_?" he asked. Sawyer just continued to shake his head, as if his uncle really should have known better.

With a heavy sigh, Kurt turned to look at Jane, who was holding her mug of coffee in both hands in front of her, sipping it and smiling in complete amusement. She'd never seen Kurt act so silly, but it seemed that Sawyer had a very interesting effect on the otherwise very serious FBI agent.

Jane turned to face him, not moving, just watching to see what he would do next. "I'm sorry," Kurt said sincerely, but with a grin. "You're not impossible. Well, you are, but in a good way. Wait, I'm not making this better, am I?" She did her best to stifle a laugh, but felt it escaping her anyway. This side of Kurt was just… adorable.

He leaned his face closer to hers. "Let me try again. I'm sorry I said you were impossible until you'd had your coffee. Coffee is not related to your impossibility, and should not be brought into this. You _are_ impossible, but it's one of the things that I love about you." Stopping then, watching her reaction, he held his eyes locked on hers. The twinkle in his eyes almost made her laugh again, except that she could see that at the same time, he was completely serious.

"Mom," Sawyer whispered loudly, "are they going to _kiss_?"

"I don't know," Sarah said at normal volume, and then, slightly louder, she asked, "are you guys going to _kiss_? This is a family show!"

Jane turned toward Sarah at that, barely holding back her laughter, and Kurt took the opportunity to lean forward just a little more and kiss her cheek, before settling back in his own space. Turning back to look at him in surprise, Jane could still feel a tingling sensation from where he'd kissed her as it radiated from that point on her cheek outward. She grinned at him, feeling slightly ridiculous, but at the same time as though she could burst with happiness. He just smiled back at her, then, his expression changing, he said matter-of-factly, "You're still not getting my cinnamon roll."

Jane, Sarah and Sawyer all laughed at this, not settling down for several more minutes. When Kurt finished eating and announced that he'd just remembered that he needed to go back to his car and bring in the loads and loads of _presents_ from his trunk, Sawyer jumped up to clear everyone's plates. His uncle's antics had made him momentarily forget what awaited them after breakfast, but now that he remembered, he was anxious to get on with it. Sarah loaded the dishwasher while Sawyer bounded back to the Christmas tree in the next room, sitting on the floor beside it and carefully examining each gift. Jane followed Kurt to the front door, and both of them put on their boots over the pajamas, along with their jackets, hats and gloves.

"It's going to be _cold_. Ready?" Kurt asked, his hand poised on the doorknob.

"Ready," Jane replied with a grin. After all, they just had to walk to the car and back, maybe a few times, and then they could come right back inside. It couldn't be _that_ bad…

Even dressed as warmly as they were, it was still a shock when the frigid air hit them, and Jane immediately wished that they were snuggled up back by the fireplace, as they'd been the night before.

It took the two of them several trips, but they managed to get all of the presents out of the car, and locked it back up again. Just before Kurt opened the door so that they could bring in the last load, Jane turned around with her back against the door to face him.

"Thank you," she said, looking up at him as their frozen breath floated through the air. He saw emotion swirling in her eyes, and wondered what had brought the sudden burst of it about.

"For what?" he asked curiously. There was something about the snow all around them that, while they were shivering slightly, made things seem a little bit magical.

"Being here is the best present you could have given me," she said with a smile.

"I like that you're easy to impress," he replied jokingly, and she turned sideways and shoved him with her shoulder in response, since her hands were full.

"I'm _serious_ ," she protested.

"I know," he said, suddenly serious as well, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Leaning his very cold nose against her forehead, he added, "You being here is the best present I could have gotten, too. So no more talk of not giving me anything, okay?" He paused and looked down at her then, something very obviously on his mind. "Because you've given me _everything_."

She thought her heart might burst then, and all she could do was nod. She felt tears in her eyes, and just hoped that they wouldn't freeze there before they could get inside. Again, she got the same tingling sensation that she had when he'd kissed her cheek, except that it now radiated out through her whole body.

"Now we should get inside. Hypothermia has some nice side benefits and all, but it's really not as fun as it looks," he told her with a grin.

"Very funny," she said, shaking her head and stepping out of his way so that he could open the door.

He motioned with his head for her to go in first, and they stomped the snow off of their boots as Sawyer ran forward to take as much of the load of presents as he could from them as Kurt closed the door and they began shedding their layers.

"It's totally okay with me if we don't go outside again until spring," Jane told him, rubbing her hands together and waiting for the friction to warm them up even a little bit. Having removed all of her winter gear she was now simply back in her pajamas.

"I'm not sure your boss will grant you quite that much time off," he told her seriously, rubbing his hands together in a similar motion. "But I'll put in a good word for you."

"Please do," she said, winking at him with a grin on her face.

"Go get some more coffee," he told her, "I'll be right back." With that, he headed upstairs, and she just smiled as she hauled the last of the presents that they'd brought in front the car back through the house towards the Christmas tree.

"I'd just like to point out," she said when Sarah looked at her wide-eyed as she approached with yet _more_ presents, "that it was totally Kurt who went this Christmas crazy. I'm just his pack mule." She set the presents down in the living room and let Sawyer begin to organize them as she headed back to the kitchen. Sarah had finished cleaning up and was sitting at the table. Jane poured herself more coffee and then sat down at the table across from Sarah to add the right amounts of sugar and creamer.

"He always does, every year," Sarah said, shaking her head. Her voice turned a little more serious then, and she said, "It's like, he tries to make up for the things that are broken in our family by going all out for Christmas…" Sarah had a far-away look in her eyes for a minute, then looked back at Jane and smiled. "It doesn't hurt anyone, so who am I to object? It makes him happy."

Jane just nodded, thinking that the more she got to know Kurt, the more that made sense. At that moment, he reappeared in the kitchen, wearing a sweatshirt over his pajamas and holding the one of his that she liked so much, that she'd had on the day before. He handed it to her without a word, and she smiled back at him for this thoughtfulness, slipping it over her head and feeling much warmer already – both from the sweatshirt and the thought that had made him bring it to her.

"Thanks," she said, taking another sip of her coffee.

"Let's go, you guys!" Sawyer called from the living room, and the three adults all smiled.

"We're lucky he's lasted this long, really," Sarah said as she stood up and moved in that direction. Kurt had poured himself more coffee, and walked over to the table just as Jane stood up.

"Ready for the extravaganza?" he asked quietly as he stepped behind her and leaned his face close to hers.

"I don't know," she replied, leaning her cheek gently against his. "Is that possible?"

"Probably not," he said, after pretending to give it some thought. "But let's get in there anyway."

They walked close together into the living room, heading toward the spot in front of the fireplace where they'd sat the night before by silent agreement, settling themselves on the floor with their backs to the fire that Sarah had already started there. Sitting with the warmth of the fire behind her and the warmth she felt inside from Kurt's proximity, she sipped her coffee and looked at all of the lights on the Christmas tree. Watching as Sawyer played the role of "elf," reading the labels on presents and distributing one to each of the other three, she got lost in her thoughts as they opened in order from youngest to oldest, as their family tradition dictated.

Jane just smiled, soaking in the scene. There was something magical about that exact place at that exact moment. Even two days ago, anything faintly like this would have seemed impossible. And yet, it was all real.

She was pulled from her thoughts as Kurt nudged her with his shoulder. "Our turn," he said. Of course, the present was for him – something from Sarah – but the fact that he was trying to include her was more than enough for her. _Our_ turn. Her smile was genuine as she leaned a little closer to him and watched to see what he was about to unwrap.

 _I think I like Christmas_ , she thought, allowing the glow of happiness to reach through her entire body without stopping to overthink it. _I could get used to this._


	22. This Whole Time

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :) Also, once again, I do not own any song lyrics, including the ones in this chapter. They still belong to Bob Dylan.**_

 _A/N:_ _ **MonkeyPajamas**_ _, I absolutely loved your version of this idea (which I wont name here and give away the plot of the chapter before it even starts), and lately our fics have been working together, but it was too perfect for the occasion_ _ **not**_ _to include an alternate version._

It took a long time to work their way through the piles of presents, even with their small family, but eventually everything under and around the tree had been opened. There were multiple bags of torn wrapping paper, each filled to capacity, along the back wall of the living room. Once again, the Wellers had outdone themselves. Jane noticed that though Sarah had hinted that it was Kurt who went a little overboard with the Christmas presents as some sort of possible overcompensation, she seemed to have done the same. Having simply sat and enjoyed the warmth and happiness that surrounded her like a perfect bubble, Jane had absolutely no complaints.

One of Sawyer's presents had been some sort of remote controlled something or other, which had come from Sarah. She'd just told him that he could go outside and fly it as soon as he took a shower and got dressed, and she was both surprised and pleased when he agreed to these simple conditions easily, jumping up and running for the stairs.

"Wow, I guess I should've gotten him a drone-thing years ago," Sarah commented, shaking her head and standing up. "I'm off to get ready, too." Pausing in the doorway, she stopped and smiled at Kurt for a second before turning around and heading upstairs.

The chaos and noise of presents had been every bit as overwhelming as Kurt had hinted, so it was nice to just sit in the quiet and breathe in and out. No longer having a reason to face the Christmas tree, Jane turned herself around 180 degrees, until she faced the fire place, then leaned her side against Kurt once again, though they were now facing opposite directions. Chuckling, he turned around to match her position, and for a minute, they both stared into the fire, enjoying the sensation of warmth on their faces, though missing it on their backs.

Then, slowly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him ease his hand carefully in his left pocket, capturing something between his fingers and then drawing his hand back out, now closed into a tight fist so that she couldn't see what he was holding. He seemed to hesitate then, for a few seconds, before turning slightly towards her and clearing his throat.

"So, I have something for you…" Her mouth was open to protest, despite their earlier conversations on the subject, but when she saw his face, she decided to hold off. He was… _No. He can't be nervous… Why would he be?_ she wondered curiously, and a little nervously.

"I don't really know… Just… When you see it, just hear me out, okay?" He was looking at her worriedly, and she couldn't imagine what he could be giving her that would require this kind of nervous anticipation.

 _What exactly does he think I'm going to_ _ **say**_ _, or do,_ she wondered. _And… why?_

Looking back at him, she was also now more than just a little worried about whatever was about to happen, but she nodded in agreement.

"Okay," she replied slowly, wondering exactly what was happening. This had been the perfect day so far… so why did she feel like this was the catch? That this was where it all went wrong…

She watched as he held out his hand, fist still closed around the contents, and waited for her to extend hers to meet him. Slowly, she held out her hand, palm side up, positioning it directly under his and waited, finding that she was nervous. Looking up at him slowly, she wondered what was such a big deal.

Slowly, his hand opened and something metallic fell out against her skin – a sold shape, and then a long, thin "string" made of similar material. Immediately, she was afraid that she knew what she held in her hand, but waited until he drew his hand back and she could see the object before she reacted. Just as she'd thought, it was the necklace… the one he'd ripped from her neck the night that he'd arrested her. The one that hadn't ever been hers, not _really_.

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She dropped the necklace as if it had bitten her, onto the carpet in front of them.

"Jane," he said pleadingly. "Listen to me. _Please_?"

When she looked up at him, he couldn't help but notice the sadness in her eyes. He could understand why, of course, and this was why he'd been afraid of her reaction. There were at least two reasons that he could think of why getting the necklace back would be hard for her. First, when he'd given it to her, they'd both thought that she was Taylor. As she'd told him bitterly months ago, her life had been much easier when she had "been" Taylor. The necklace had belonged to _Taylor's mother_ , and now that they both knew that she _wasn't_ Taylor… He still saw it as hers, but he wasn't sure that _she_ would.

The second reason… well, that one was harder to swallow. It had been obvious to him that she had _loved_ that necklace. It had been one of her only true possessions – not bought for her by the FBI, but given to her by him personally. It wasn't vanity, but simply knowing her the way he did, to know that that was why it was important to her. Of course, she hadn't seen it since the night that he'd arrested her. _He_ hadn't seen it since the night he'd arrested her. He'd taken it back from her in a none too friendly way, and he wasn't proud of himself for it.

No, she had every right to be looking at him the way she was now – with a mixture of fear and hurt and defensiveness and… he didn't pretend that he could know everything that she was feeling. And yet, even so, it seemed important to give it back to her. It represented things that hurt, but it represented so much more than that. If only he could find the right words, make her understand…

He took a deep breath, determined to somehow get it right, no matter how many tries it took. He'd rehearsed the words in his head ever since Sarah had pulled him into the other room before breakfast and given it back to him. This was the moment of truth.

Letting the necklace lie on the floor in front of them for the moment, he slowly reached for her hands. While he wanted to blurt everything out at once, he forced himself to move slowly, to take them tentatively in his. After all, no matter how well things had been going with the two of them, it _had_ only been a few days, and he knew that he'd just made her feel very vulnerable again by producing the necklace so suddenly.

He didn't know the right place to start his explanation, but he picked the part that he thought made the most sense. "After that night," he said softly, looking at her even though she wasn't looking at him, "Apparently I threw the necklace into an envelope and left it on Sarah's dresser. I don't even remember doing it. She said she found it the next day, that I had written, ' _Keep this'_ on the front of the envelope… She knew what it was, and by then she knew what had happened, so… she did. She kept it. I don't know why she had it with her on this trip – she didn't get a chance to explain that part to me yet – but when she pulled me into the other room this morning, she just handed it to me and said, 'I just thought you might want this back.' I'd forgotten that she had it."

Knowing that he had said a lot already, he stopped there, waiting for her reaction. Her eyes were closed now, he saw, and she was breathing very deliberately, as if it required concentration to be sure she did it right. His chest ached once again, knowing that his words, and the fact that he'd handed her the necklace, were causing her so much pain. That _he_ was once again responsible for causing her pain.

"I want _you_ to have it back, Jane. It's yours."

In her mind, she was replaying the whole scene. The one where he'd _arrested_ her. _Handcuffed_ her. And then, just before leading her outside to his waiting SUV, maybe he'd seen the glint on the back of her neck, or maybe he'd just remembered… but he'd pushed her toward the first empty wall he saw, pressed his knee into her back to keep her steady, and, with fingers shaking so badly that even she could feel it, he'd slowly grasped the chain between his fingers and then, without warning, had pulled it off of her as fast and as hard as he could.

She'd gasped in pain and surprise, but she had known then that he wasn't listening to her. After all, he'd already blocked out all of her attempts to explain. The chain on the necklace had broken, but not before leaving her with a stinging, burning line across her neck, a reminder for days afterwards of what had been taken from her – of what had never been hers in the first place, she had reminded herself over and over again.

Of course, the line hadn't been serious enough to leave a scar, and the pain was far more emotional than it had been physical. Besides, what she'd gone through not long after that, when the CIA had taken her, had been so much worse than the pain of having a necklace ripped off of her, the short-lived pain on her neck had easily faded into the past, something not even worth remembering. But now that that necklace lay in front of her on the carpet, reminding her of everything that had happened, _now_ she remembered it all, in living color and vivid detail.

There were so many reasons why she didn't want that necklace, why she _shouldn't_ want it. And yet… at the same time, there was an ache inside her chest that told her that she _did_ want it, despite everything.

After all, it had come from Kurt.

She had to explain to him why she couldn't accept it, and maybe in doing so, she would explain it to herself. Picking the first, most logical reason she could think of why she couldn't accept the necklace, she finally opened her eyes and looked up at him. Before she could speak, however, she was surprised to register the depth of the pain she saw in his eyes.

 _It reminds_ _ **him**_ _of that time, too,_ she realized. _And yes, technically he was the one who arrested you, but you know very well what the circumstances were. Thinking of that day reminds him of the pain that he was in mentally then… it was excruciating. It doesn't excuse his behavior, but you're past that part…_

 _Aren't you?_ Suddenly, she had to confirm with herself that she _was_ past what had happened. _If you weren't, you wouldn't be here, after all._

Looking down for a second to break the hold his pained look had taken over her, she slowly brought her eyes back up to him as she began to speak. "That's… that's not _mine_. It's Taylor's," she told him simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You gave it to me because you thought I was Taylor."

He knew that he had to choose his words carefully, because she wasn't completely wrong. The necklace, after all, _had_ belonged to Emma Shaw, Taylor's mom. And yet, that was not at all why he'd given it to her.

Squeezing her hands gently, then shifting them so that his thumbs could trace slow lines against her palms, he began speaking slowly. "I cannot deny that the necklace belonged to Emma Shaw. I cannot deny that we all thought that you were Taylor when I gave it to you… but even when I thought you were Taylor, you were always _Jane_ to me. The way I felt about you then… the way I feel about you _**now**_ _…_ none of it is or was because I thought you were Taylor. I gave that necklace to you – Jane – and I had no right to take it back."

"You had every right," she said quickly, shaking her head and suddenly trying to pull her hands back from him. "I wasn't her." This, of course, only made him grasp them tighter.

"Jane—" he started, but she cut him off.

"Emma Shaw was not my mother. We're not even from the same _country._ That necklace was meant for her _daughter_. _**I'm not her**_." She had managed to wrestle her hands away from him – when he'd seen how hard she was fighting to pull them back, he had decided to let them go for the moment, thinking that he didn't want his attempts to backfire. After all, he'd reminded himself, a strong reaction from her was understandable.

"Jane," he said, trying again. "I think that if Emma Shaw knew the very, very long story of Taylor, and you, and me… I think that she would want you to have it."

But Jane drew her knees up in front of her, retreating inside herself as far as she could as she wrapped her arms around her knees with an iron grip. "I _impersonated_ her daughter," she whispered. "I didn't _just_ impersonate her daughter, but I did it with the intention of deceiving the FBI. I _used_ her daughter as a tool to get to you, without any regard for how _manipulative_ that was, or how it would hurt you… I don't deserve her necklace. I don't even deserve _forgiveness._ "

He watched with a sinking heart as the progress that they had made over the past months all seemed to melt away in the blink of an eye, leaving only the hurt she had suffered in its wake. The facts were that not only had _he_ arrested her after she had done what she thought was the best she could do when faced with impossible situation after impossible situation, in order to protect the people she cared about, but that she had been brutally tortured for months after that. She'd been made to think that her life meant nothing, and then, when she'd finally escaped and subsequently been caught, had been forced to return to the FBI, she'd been led to believe that not a single one of them cared even a little bit about her until it was almost too late to salvage any of their relationships.

She had every reason to break down just then, as far as he was concerned. The surprising thing was that it hadn't happened sooner, really. But this time, he was there, and he was going to build her back up, no matter how long it took.

The fact that the way she saw everything – in black and white, with herself as the villain – _wasn't_ all that had happened didn't matter at that moment. Watching her then, he could see from her face and her body language that she had just stripped away all of the healing she had managed to achieve, and returned herself to a place in her mind that she went to when everything hurt.

 _Maybe the necklace was a bad idea…_ the voice in his head suggested. However, he remained steadfast in the belief that it wasn't. This was simply another manifestation of how much baggage was left for them to work through. On the surface, in their interactions over the past few days, things had looked relatively calm, but inside both of them – Jane especially – there was still a lot of pain. But they'd gotten this far, and what she needed now was to see that he wasn't going to back away, wasn't going to let her simply retreat and that she didn't have to face her demons alone.

Retreating may have felt to her like the safer option when the pain was so overwhelming, but he'd made the mistake of letting her do so once already, and he'd almost lost her for good because of it. There was no way he was going to let that happen again. Her doubts, her immediate assumption that she had to protect herself, even from him, those doubts were the price he was still paying for his mistakes, but he was determined to make it up to her. He knew better now. Now he could see her for what she really was… someone so loyal, so _good_ , that she would sacrifice herself for people who had treated her like dirt simply because she felt that she owed them a debt.

But there would be no self-sacrificing on his watch.

She'd made herself into such a tiny ball, wrapping her arms around her knees as tightly as she could, that it was easy to simply lift her into his lap. Initially she stiffened, as though she was bracing herself for a blow, and this made him wince. Instead, he simply wrapped his arms around her tightly, trying to ignore the fact that he felt her begin to shake in his arms, and concentrated on rocking her back and forth slowly. As he did so, he spoke softly into her ear.

"See, that's just not going to work on me, Jane. You seem to have mistaken me for someone who doesn't know you, who doesn't know just how much you like to take the weight of the world on your shoulders to protect others, no matter what it means for you, but you can't fool me. I _know_ you, better than I think you want to admit. I know that right now, this moment, you've somehow convinced yourself all over again that there's some debt that you can't repay… That you're not worthy. But we talked about this in the car, while we were working on not freezing to death – remember?" He paused to take a breath, then continued.

"It was your idea, in fact, our deal. The one where we agreed that we're _even_. We _both_ did terrible things, but that does _not_ make us terrible people. You don't get to take the blame for the things that Remi did, because _you are not Remi_. You are Jane, and you're not any guiltier than I am. You've been a victim of all this, too. And if you need me to remind you of that, if you need to hear it a hundred times, then I'll tell you a hundred times."

He paused then, not sure that any of this was getting through to her, but hoping that it was. He felt a wave of desperation wash over him. She _had_ to believe him, because he could not conceive of what he would do if he couldn't fix this. The idea that she wouldn't give him a chance to help her… _No._

"Because I'm not going away," he added in a whisper, his voice breaking at the end.

He heard noise upstairs, the voices of Sarah and Sawyer talking to each other animatedly, and he just hoped that Sarah would keep up her end of the bargain to keep Sawyer busy for a while, outside with his new drone. When he'd decided to give Jane the necklace, he hadn't expected quite this kind of a reaction from her, but he _had_ anticipated that they might need some time alone, and Sarah had promised that they would have it.

Looking down at her to assess her condition, he was fairly sure that her arms were beginning to loosen around her knees, though they were still wrapped around herself, as if she was protecting herself from something. That was okay. After everything that she'd been through, he couldn't help but feel like these kind of major breakdowns were absolutely to be expected. Not because he wanted her to have them, of course, but because a person could only hold her level of pain in for so long – even as strong as she was. He didn't _want_ he to hold it all in anymore, but it was exactly what she tended to do, being as stubbornly independent as she had always been, so he _wanted_ her to get it all out.

Thinking that what he was doing – simply holding onto her and talking softly – seemed to be slowly working, he decided to continue, and tried to inject a little bit of humor into his words at the same time. Things were serious enough, after all.

"Also," he said, resuming his steady flow of what he hoped were calming words, "you seem to have confused me with someone who gives up. If you haven't heard, I'm really, really stubborn. Which yes, you are, too. We have that in common, but I think my track record wins. After all, who else do you know who has ever gone after the same goal for twenty-five years? Doing something like that either makes a person a major dumbass, or just really, really determined."

He thought maybe he sensed a change in her somehow when he said that, some kind of recognition of his attempt at humor, but he knew that he could have been imagining it. He _probably had_ imagined it. Still, he liked to think that she was tuned into his voice enough to be processing what he was saying. He knew that he could be a dumbass sometimes, after all. He'd spent a lot of time being a dumbass in the past few months.

Ever since he'd lifted her onto his lap, which had been a surprise to her, and pulled his arms around her, she'd felt like she was watching the whole thing from outside her body. Even though her eyes were clamped shut as hard as she could squeeze them, she just _knew_ what the scene looked like, right down to the details. She wanted to tell the woman that Kurt was holding onto so tightly, and speaking to so gently, that it was going to be okay. She wanted to tell her that this was obviously the face of a man who meant what he said. But she wasn't ready to be that woman again yet, and to let herself believe those things.

Instead, she simply listened to the soothing sound of his voice, hearing his words but only slowly tuning back into what he was telling her. As she did begin processing his words again, little by very little, she felt herself begin to relax.

"You know what the messed up part about that is?" he was talking about himself, and the transition from being considered a _dumbass_ to the much nicer sounding _really, really determined_ for his single-minded devotion to what everyone else had considered a lost cause for twenty-five years. He hadn't said that the cause was finding out what happened to Taylor, but of course, he hadn't needed to. What the cause _was_ hadn't been his point, anyway. "Everyone assumes that you're the dumbass until you can actually _prove_ that you were right all that time. Trust me, I only recently got to move from _dumbass_ to _really, really determined_. But when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter to me what anyone else believes or thinks or says, not _really_ , because when I believe in something, in some _one_ , when I _know_ in my gut that I'm right, there is nothing anyone can say that will deter me."

He paused, glancing at her and seeing that she was shaking a little bit less, and continued. "You can ask the rest of the team if you want to try to tell me that you don't remember that much yourself… though I know that you've seen the evidence of this plenty of times. You know what a pain in the ass I can be… admit it." Smiling just the tiniest bit at his own attempt at humor, again at his own expense, he was delighted when he felt her arms loosen and her hands begin to unclasp, felt her finally allow herself to lean into him. He felt his heart swell with affection for her, and could only hope that at some point, she might understand just how important she was to him. He was only just beginning to understand this himself.

"So when I tell you that I want you to have that necklace back, that you are absolutely worthy of it, no matter _what_ has changed since the last time I gave it to you… you're not going to convince me otherwise," he said firmly. "If you don't _want_ it, that's different. And I would understand if that's the case…" He felt her move for the first time then, shaking her head against his chest, where she was leaning.

Smiling fondly, he moved his right hand to the back of her head, fingers threaded through her hair, his arm supporting her back. His voice dropped back to a whisper then. "I know that I'm the one who just brought up our agreement, that we said that we're even, and I meant it. Even so, I can still tell you again that I'm sorry for taking it back. I won't do it again, no matter what. Okay? And I know that the words I'm saying are only that – words. And you need more than just words. You need time, and you need me to show you that I mean what I'm saying. That's what I'm going to do. And…" he took a deep breathe, "for what it's worth, I don't feel like I'm any worthier of forgiveness than you feel like you are."

Her head moved off of his chest and he tilted his head back to look at her then, as she looked at him for the first time since he'd handed her the necklace. _How could he possibly think that it was the same thing?_ she wondered. And yet, from the pained look on his face, she could see that he did.

He picked up the necklace in his left hand and held it in his open palm, and they both sat and just looked at it silently. Keeping her eyes on the necklace, she leaned her head against his chest and sighed, her breath catching in her throat.

"I've seen you reaching for it, unconsciously," he told her quietly. "The last few months, since you've been back… I don't know if you noticed you were doing it." She shook her head against his chest once again, still staring at the necklace, not saying a word. "I want you to have it, Jane. If you want it. It's as simple as that."

She put her right hand up to where he was holding the necklace, his arm resting in front of her. Reaching out slowly with her index finger, she traced the thin chain, her finger brushing against the skin of his palm here and there, leaving a trail of what felt to him like sparks across his hand in its wake.

"It's not broken?" she asked quietly, in surprise. "I expected it to be broken, because…" Her left hand went to her neck, to the place where she'd had a bright red gash from when he'd ripped the necklace off of her, and he felt his heart breaking all over again.

"It was," he whispered. "Sarah… said she got it fixed." She just nodded.

Holding his breath, he continued to hold his hand there, as her finger wound its way from one end of the chain to the other. When she'd reached the beginning again, her hand slowly opened and lowered itself over his, closing over the necklace, with her fingers curled around his hand. He closed his fingers around her hand then as well, their fingers interlocking with the necklace in between. Kurt leaned his right cheek against the top of her head, squeezing her hand gently.

"It feels like…" she sighed heavily. "Every time I think I'm doing better, something happens to remind me that it's _never_ going to be better. Like there's just _too much_ …" Her breathing became quick and shallow, as if she was starting to panic. "It's like… everything reminds me of something that _hurts_." She squeezed her eyes shut again, and felt a few stray tears on her cheeks.

 _Traitors,_ she thought furiously at her tears. _I told you not to do that._

"Hey," he said, his right hand leaving the back of her head and winding around her tightly again, his left hand holding securely to her right with the necklace still clasped between them. "Don't think like that. I told you on the first day, the first time I dropped you off at your first safe house, that it was going to be okay. I still believe that. It _is_ going to get better." She nodded her head quickly – too quickly – the way she did when she wanted him to believe what she was saying even though she didn't believe it herself.

They heard Sarah and Sawyer's voice by the front door, and he felt her tense, as they waited to see if they were going to come closer. However, a moment later they heard the front door open, then close again, and Sawyer's distant yelps of delight as they went out into the chilly day.

Jane relaxed against him once more, relieved that they still had more time alone. His cheek pressed against the top of her head. "Take it one day – no, one hour – at a time. One _minute_ , if that's what it takes. You're doing _fine_. Better than fine. You're a survivor, Jane _._ " He paused for a second, thinking about everything she'd survived, even the parts that made him wince, wishing he could've been there to protect her. _"_ I don't know anyone else who could have endured so much and still come through it all so strong. I _know_ that you're going to be okay. And I know you like to tell yourself that you have to do it alone… but that has to stop. You don't. Never again. Okay?" he asked. He'd finally run out of words and he waited nervously for her reply.

"Okay," she replied quietly. His cheek was leaned against her head, so he couldn't see her face just then, but he swore he heard a smile – at least a little one – in her voice. Slowly, then, he felt her squeeze his hand and then flip it over, so that her hand was on the bottom and his was on top. Her fingers loosened around his, and he let his unclasp gradually from around her hand as well. She spread out her fingers, holding them straight out while keeping her hand still, so that when he lifted his hand away, seeing what she was trying to do, the necklace sat on _her_ palm. She stared at it as he leaned back far enough to see her face in profile, her expression telling him that she was deep in thought. After a minute, a sad smile crossed her face.

Almost timidly, her suddenly shaking fingers went to the clasp, gripping the pendant in her right while she tried to pry the two tiny pieces apart.

"Wait, let me…" His words trailed off almost quickly as he looked at her, and when she looked up to meet his eyes, shifting slightly, the smile on her face changed.

"Thanks," she said, nodding her head. Now it was a genuine smile, and she held up the necklace to him.

Slightly in awe that this was actually happening, he took it from her and, though his fingers were a little bit clumsy and it took him a few tries, he opened the clasp on the necklace and then lowered the golden disc pendant over her head in front of her. Bringing the ends of the chain back together behind her neck and fastening them together, he let his hands drop just to her shoulders, beside the base of her neck. His thumbs moved gently against the skin above the neckline of her shirt.

At this point, they had both shifted and she was now sitting in front of him, staring into the fire, one of his bent knees on either side of her. Her hand went to her neck slowly, and this time, for the first time in a long while, it caught onto her necklace. Despite all of the things that the necklace had and did remind her of, she couldn't help but smile.

As many times as she'd told herself that it didn't matter than he'd taken it back, _taken_ being a generous word for the _way_ that he'd removed it from her, she realized now that that had just been another lie that she'd told to protect someone – in this case, to protect _herself_. It _had_ mattered to her, and now that she had it back, it mattered even more. She could ignore the fact that it had belonged to a woman whose dead daughter she had pretended to be. Kurt had given it to her – twice now – and that was all that mattered, in the end. If he could be okay with all the rest of it, then she could, too.

She sat facing the fire, staring into the flames but not really seeing them because try as she might, she could focus on nothing except the fact that his hands sat on her shoulders – well, that and the necklace that she was now fingering between her index finger and her thumb. When she scooted herself back until her back leaned against his chest a few minutes later, his hands left her shoulders and wrapped around her tightly, neither of them needing to speak in order for there to be complete understanding between the two.

Neither of them were sure how long they sat there like that. At some point they heard Sarah and Sawyer tromp back inside noisily, stomping the snow off of their feet, Sawyer talking excitedly as he heard Sarah directing him to leave his boots on the mat – "No, Sawyer, not in the middle of the floor!" – and to put all of his wet snow gear in the dryer before he went anywhere else, and then to go upstairs and change into something dry. Footsteps moved in several different directions before both sets of them went back upstairs.

Kurt knew that one or both of the other Wellers would probably be joining them any minute. "Sounds like they had a lot of fun out there," Kurt whispered into her ear. Jane nodded, leaning her cheek against his. "We'll have to go out and play in the snow later, too… Maybe?" he suggested hopefully.

Jane chuckled, then nodded her head. "I've heard that snow is _fun_ , and not just something that traps motorists in their cars for hours and hours," she replied, turning her head back toward him. "So I should probably try it out."

"You should," he agreed, happy to hear her sense of humor returning. "Though I would like to clarify that, um, being trapped in my car by snow for hours and hours wasn't _all_ bad…" When she turned the rest of the way around, so that she was sitting on her knees facing him to better look him in the eye, there was a devilish smile on his face. Her face lit up with a smile of her own and she shook her head, laughing quietly.

"Agreed," she whispered. "It wasn'tbad at all."

He leaned his face slowly towards hers, so slowly that he was surprised at how long it took for his forehead to make contact with hers – or maybe that was just because the anticipation was making it _feel_ longer. Next, he moved even more slowly until his nose bumped against hers, which made both of them smile, not moving away. Finally, at what felt slower than a snail's pace, their lips met, brushing together gently at first, and only very slowly pressing together with increasing pressure. After all, as Jane had thought before, there was no rush.

They were still kissing – it was still a very innocent kiss – when Sawyer walked into the room behind them. The ten year old, of course, was horrified. "Oh, _yuck_! You guys are in here _kissing_? Why didn't someone warn me?"

Jane and Kurt stopped kissing, but froze with their lips still pressed together, both holding in their laughter at the boy's reaction. Kurt leaned back just a fraction of an inch, just enough to be able to speak, but little enough that his nose and forehead were still pressed against Jane's. "Sorry… We're in here kissing," he called, keeping his eyes on Jane.

 _Poor kid,_ Jane thought. _It's the second time he's caught us kissing._

"Have you been doing that _this whole time_?" Sawyer demanded.

"Yep," Kurt said in a voice that sounded loud to Jane, who was so close to him, but only because he wanted it to carry back to where Sawyer was. "We've been kissing _this whole time_."

"Oh my _GOD_ ," Sawyer exclaimed loudly, clearly distressed, turning dramatically and heading back upstairs. "Mom!" They heard his voice fading as he headed back upstairs. "They've been in here kissing _this whole time!_ "

No longer able to hold it in, Jane and Kurt laughed quietly, and Kurt moved forward again that tiny little bit so that their lips were once again pressed together, though they were technically not kissing, but found that they needed to lean back again a few inches for air not long thereafter. There they sat, catching their breath and smiling happily at each other, and Jane realized that the weight of their earlier conversation had disappeared.

Her hand immediately, unconsciously, went to her necklace, which hung around her neck, and her smile intensified. Leaning forward to close the small gap between them once more, _she_ kissed _him_ this time, slowly and gently, before pulling her face back only far enough to look into his eyes. Brushing her nose against his a few extra times and lingering there, pressing their noses together, they remained there even after their lips had parted.

When they heard the sound of Sarah and Sawyer coming down the stairs, talking in exaggeratedly loud voices in what was obviously their way of making sure that the kissing had stopped before their arrival, they finally moved far enough away from each other that there could be no mistake about whether or not they were still kissing.

The noise stopped suddenly, and Sarah called, "Is it safe for your nephew to come back in? He doesn't want to see any _kissing_ in there." They could tell from her voice that Sarah thought that this whole thing was hilarious.

"All clear," Kurt called. Jane chuckled, turning around to look back at the fire.

"You hear that, Sawyer?" Sarah was saying as they walked into the kitchen. "Uncle Kurt promised no more kissing."

Kurt turned around to look at the newcomers and grinned. "I was kidding before," he said, "we were _not_ kissing that whole time. It just sounded good." He felt Jane punch him gently in the arm, and he chuckled, but kept looking at his sister and nephew. "Did you guys have fun outside?"

"It was awesome!" Sawyer gushed, bounding over to where they sat on the floor in front of the fire. "But, Uncle Kurt," Sawyer said, suddenly looking serious. He glanced over his shoulder and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Will you come outside with me later? Because you're way more fun than my mom."

"I heard that!" Sarah called loudly, pretending to be annoyed but just shaking her head at her son. She would never begrudge her brother how much Sawyer loved his uncle, even though it _was_ occasionally annoying that she did _everything_ for the kid and Kurt seemed to get hero status while she was just "mom." It probably had something to do with the fact that she also had the job of making him do homework and eat vegetables, she decided.

"Sorry, mom," Sawyer said automatically, standing up and walking back over to Sarah. "You're the best."

"Yes, I will make you hot chocolate," Sarah replied. "Since I know that's what you _really_ wanted to ask."

"Because you're the _best_ , just like I said," Sawyer replied with an angelic grin. Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head at him, but continued to smile as she filled the kettle with water. "Do you guys want hot chocolate, too?" Sarah called. "Coffee? Tea?"

Kurt looked down at Jane in front of him. She had turned around to watch the interaction between the other two Wellers in the kitchen in amusement, just as Kurt had, and was still looking over her shoulder – now at Kurt. "I'd love some tea, please," Jane called, "But I can get it…"

"Stay where you are, you look very cozy," Sarah said with a wave of her hand. "I'm warming up the water anyway. Kurt?"

"Tea for me too, please," he called, not taking his eyes off of Jane. He was still thinking about the kiss from a few minutes before. It had been very innocent and yet… completely perfect. Just like this moment. "We'll have hot chocolate later, after _we_ play in the snow, too."

The room was quiet for a minute, everyone involved in their own thoughts. Sawyer sat at the table reading a comic book that he'd brought down from upstairs with him – Spiderman, it looked like, from Kurt's angle. Sarah went about getting things ready in the kitchen, humming softly to herself. There was something familiar about that song she was humming… and then suddenly, it was obvious.

Jane was still watching him, and he gently prodded her head to the side with his nose so that he could speak right into her ear. "Do you hear what Sarah's humming?" he asked her. Jane was still for a few seconds, obviously concentrating on listening, before her smile widened and she nodded her head.

"What are the odds?" she whispered back.

"What are the odds of _any_ of this?" he replied quietly. She nodded, happiness written all over her face as once again, she held onto the necklace that hung down in front of her, pressing it between her fingers to be sure that the whole thing hadn't been her imagination. Just then, she was fairly sure that she would never, ever, get tired of finding it hanging there.

In her mind, she heard herself telling him, a long time ago, back at the FBI, _"Someone special gave it to me."_ The memory only made her smile even harder.

As he watched Jane, Kurt couldn't help but hear the words that went along with the tune that Sarah was humming, _mostly_ in tune and _mostly_ with the right melody.

" _I could make you happy, make your dreams come true  
There's nothing that I would not do  
Go to the ends of the earth for you  
To make you feel my love."_

 _So true_ , thought Kurt. _So true._


	23. That's It

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

After they'd realized what song Sarah was humming, that it was the same one they'd danced to approximately thirty-six hours before – and yet, in another lifetime – they fell quiet. Jane felt just a little bit overwhelmed at that moment, thinking back to the dance and everything that had happened since then, pressing her fingers around the pendant of her necklace. In her mind she had called it 'the necklace' of even 'Taylor's necklace,' when she had occasionally allowed herself to wonder what had happened to it after Kurt had taken it back so painfully.

 _ **My**_ _necklace_ , she now corrected herself, still in awe.

The fire had been getting low, so Kurt got up and added another log to before coming right back to the spot where he'd been sitting behind her, even asking quietly, "Where was I?" to let her know that he was _purposely_ settling back into the same position. He sat down and pulled her back against his chest securely, both of them staring into the fire.

He could somehow sense that her thoughts had strayed, or maybe he had just guessed because it was so easy for that to happen to anyone, really, when staring into a fireplace full of flames. Or at least, it had happened to everyone in his own family from time to time, so he just assumed that it was something that was common to everyone. Her cheek rested against his arm, both of which were wrapped around her, and he wondered what was going on in her head.

However, she had the necklace between her fingers and he could feel the slight motion as she moved it back and forth, probably unconsciously. When he leaned to the side to see her profile, the look on her face reflected a tranquility that he'd rarely seen in her, so he decided to go with the assumption that she was lost in thoughts that she didn't need rescuing from. At least not yet. Even so, even with his arms wrapped around her, despite the fact that they couldn't _be_ any closer together, the fact that her attention had wandered made him feel like she herself was far away. While he didn't want to interrupt her thoughts, he suddenly couldn't wait to see the look in her eyes that she only had when she looked at _him…_

 _You know that that's ridiculous, right?_ he asked himself. _There's a name for that, you know…_

He was going to tell himself that he was crazy, but then realized that what he was feeling was actually a symptom of something else. That something was _love_.

Any version of Kurt Weller that had existed before just then would have rebuffed the idea quickly, but this new and arguably improved version ( _You can't be both new and improved,_ he pointed out to himself in his head, to which he quickly replied that that was _not_ the point) of him seemed to simply accept this as fact and move on to the next thought. Had he already known about this? That he loved her? Was that why it didn't seem to surprise him? He honestly couldn't remember. But now that the thought had entered his mind, it was all he could think about.

 _Calm down,_ he told himself. _You guys are definitely in a good place, but as you've just seen this morning, it's still not going to be smooth sailing._

 _It wouldn't be my life if it was,_ he thought in reply. _I don't need easy. I just need_ _ **her**_ _._

When she felt his arms tighten around her, it pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned to look at him, his face just over her shoulder. Their eyes met, both of them smiling, and his head tipped forward slightly, his temple leaning against the side of her head.

Sarah's voice came from almost directly above them then. "You guys really are too cute," she gushed. "But can I give you these even though it means letting go of each other for a few minutes?"

Kurt arms fell from around Jane and they both turned to their left, towards Sarah, to take the mugs that she had brought them. Both of them were still hot, and they quickly set them down on the hearth in front of Jane, Kurt making a point to lean forward against her back and _then_ reach to set his mug down, rather than simply reaching around Jane directly. It was a small but important distinction, and it reminded her for just a second of their first Rich Dotcom mission. That time, he'd unfastened the necklace from her neck and then, instead of stepping around her to hand it to the criminal they were paying in order to retrieve the stolen WitSec list, he'd stepped forward, leaning against her back and _then_ reached his arm around her to hand over the necklace.

"After we finish our tea, we should go up and get ready, and then we can go out and play in the snow," Kurt whispered, very quietly against her ear, hoping that Sawyer hadn't heard him. He didn't mind if his nephew joined them outside, but he was very much enjoying the rare peace and quiet just at that moment, and wasn't quite ready to have to pay attention to anyone but Jane if it wasn't necessary. He felt her nod in agreement, leaning slightly against his head in response to the closeness. A long, contended sigh escaped from one of them, but he was amused to realize that he couldn't discern whether it had come from him or from her.

A few minutes later, she leaned forward and picked up her tea, finding that it was now the perfect temperature to drink. Just as she sat back, she felt him lean forward, which pressed them that much more tightly together. Even though it was only her back against his chest, as well as his arm and shoulder leaned slightly over her shoulder, she felt herself blushing. Who knew that such an innocent gesture could make her feel so happy?

It wasn't as though he didn't already know that he liked the sensation of being close to her. That was what had helped make a near death experience feel like something he had actually wanted to _repeat_ , after all… What surprised him, however, was the fact that as he leaned forward at the same time that she leaned back, thereby pressing his chest a little more tightly against her, the rush of emotion was something akin to flying. He'd never felt that way before, at any time, with _anyone_ else, and he was glad. He liked the idea that the feeling was uniquely for Jane.

She'd been sipping her tea and leaning against Kurt, even though his arms were occupied with holding his tea, for what felt like only a few minutes. When she looked into her mug and saw that her tea was gone, she was both surprised and disappointed – she really didn't want to have to get up. Beside her, Kurt was draining the last of his tea as well, leaning forward – she was sure that he was doing it exaggeratedly now, as an excuse to lean against her… _not_ that she minded one bit, of course – to set his mug down. She put hers down as well, and for a few seconds pretended that they hadn't agreed to go and get ready when their tea was finished. Right now, she didn't want to be anywhere else.

But of course, he hadn't forgotten. He was speaking into her ear again before she even realized it. "You should go up and take a shower so we can go outside and play in the snow," he told her. He was going to tell her to dress warmly, but remembered that she didn't really have anything especially warm. So instead, he added, "And put on my green sweater. I'm not sure which bag it's in, yours or mine, but it's the warmest one." _And it'll match your eyes_ , he added in his head.

She leaned against him, which he knew was her _I don't want to go,_ so he added, "The sooner you go, the sooner you can be done." Even though this was only logical, when he said it into her ear, it seemed to make much more sense. She had a feeling that he could say almost _anything_ he said into her ear and it would seem to make sense… That thought surprised her slightly, as she realized just how true it was. Being around him was like being under some sort of spell.

This distraction from the delightful hum of happiness in her head was probably the only reason she managed to push herself up from the floor and away from him. She picked up the mugs from the hearth before turning and, after looking at him one more time, their eyes locking for several seconds before she managed to extract herself from the pull once again, she turned and walked towards the kitchen.

As soon as she walked by the kitchen table on her way to the sink, Sawyer, who noticed that she had vacated her spot by his uncle, stood up like a shot and bolted toward Kurt, comic book in hand, to talk about what he'd been reading. Jane and Sarah, who had just finished cleaning up the aftermath of her cooking, watched in amusement as Sawyer plopped himself down and proceeded to make up for the time when he hadn't been able to hold his uncle's attention.

"I guess I was preventing some serious male bonding just by sitting there," Jane said, feeling slightly guilty.

Sarah dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, however. "Don't worry about it," she replied, sensing Jane's feelings. "Sawyer would talk Kurt's ear off twenty-four hours a day if I let him. It started a little while before we moved, and I swear it's gotten worse since then. They – well, my son – literally never runs out of things to talk about." Jane grinned, watching them and thinking that Sawyer did, indeed seem like a kid who could just talk your ear off. He'd changed a lot from the shy, reserved kid that she'd first met on the night of that disastrous, failed dinner.

"Well, while they catch up, I'll just go up and shower," Jane said, feeling a little bit awkward to still be in her pajamas, standing beside Sarah, who she barely knew, really, who was showered and dressed. Sarah nodded, then turned as Jane began walking toward the front stairs, adding, "There should be towels in the bathroom, otherwise look in the hall closet."

"Thanks," Jane said, turning to smile at her once more before disappearing upstairs.

She walked up the stairs slowly, absently watching her hand move over the well-worn, wooden banister that wrapped around the stairs as they turned at the wide landing, then turned again and headed the rest of the way up to the second floor. For a moment, on the landing, she paused, imagining young Kurt, Sarah, and Taylor, and what they must have been like as kids. She'd seen the pictures, after all. After thinking that she _was_ Taylor, even though she now knew better, she still felt a strange connection to the girl – even though that connection had come about it a way that almost made her feel… she searched for the word, but _dirty_ was the only one that came to mind.

That wasn't quite right, and yet, it wasn't quite wrong, either. What she felt was something stronger than guilt, because what she – _Remi_ – had done had been… she shivered, not wanting to think about it anymore, but simultaneously unable to _not_ think about it.

She – _No, Remi_ , she reminded herself quickly – had decided to be Taylor in order to manipulate Kurt, something that she – _Jane_ – would never do. Even so, even knowing that she would have done this… _still_ she somehow felt responsible for Remi's actions.

Her eyes closed then, despite her best efforts to push the thoughts away. It was so strange, trying to navigate the minefield that was her mind – not that she'd ever known anything different… No, she supposed _strange_ was the wrong word. Confusing… Stressful… It had gotten easier, she'd noticed, in the past few days. Suddenly, the idea that Kurt was on her side again, which had seemed completely impossible as recently as three days ago, seemed to round off the sharp edges. Still, it seemed that the pitfalls were everywhere, and that it was simply impossible to avoid them all.

Shaking her head against the memories, she suddenly heard Kurt's voice in her head. _It_ _ **is**_ _going to get better._ And because she wanted to believe it, she _needed_ to believe it, she decided that she would. After all, she had decided to trust him this far – no, they had decided to trust _each other_ – which meant that she would try her best to take him at his word.

Seeing his face in her mind now, she was somehow able to believe that he was not a guy who would let bad things happen to her if it was remotely in his power to stop them. At least… not _again._ The past… well, that was the past, and they couldn't change it – any of it.

There had been a time when she had desperately wanted to remember her past. And now? The more time went on, the more her past – both before _and_ after the memory wipe – had become something to be overcome, and if not forgotten, then at least moved on from.

Opening her eyes determinedly, she slowly continued up the stairs, still seeing young Kurt, Sarah and Taylor flash before her eyes. She let them bound down the stairs past her with their youthful exuberance, in their brightly colored rubber rain boots, the ones that Kurt had described to her. No, she hadn't been Taylor, and yes, she had come to "be" Taylor in a dishonest and deceitful way, and yet… maybe because the few brief flashes of her memory of her own, real childhood were so few and so traumatic, in a way, while sad, she found the flashes of Kurt's childhood almost soothing.

 _Because Kurt was in them_ , her mind chimed in, filling in what should have been obvious. And no, Jane had never been Taylor, but she knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Kurt Weller's devotion. Even if right now, despite his behavior in the past two days, she couldn't let herself _quite_ believe it… she remembered the feeling from before. Before all of the bad things had started, back in the beginning, when she had been terrified, he'd been her rock, the only thing keeping her afloat in an ocean of uncertainty.

Taylor Shaw's short life, from what she knew of her, hadn't been filled with that same kind of uncertainty, but there had been significant gaps all the same – no father in the picture, no siblings of her own and a single mother who worked long hours in order to support them, leaving her alone more than she should have.

And yet, knowing what she knew about Kurt, about his intensity, she somehow knew without having been there herself that in her short life, Taylor Shaw had received the same devotion, the same protection, that Jane herself had – or, at least that Jane had in the beginning, before the lies had begun. While she was desperately sad for the little girl who had never had a chance to grow up, who had done nothing to deserve such a horrible death at the age of five, she was at least comforted a tiny bit by the fact that Kurt had been the one looking out for her. It may not have been enough to protect her from the evils of the world in the end, but while she was alive, that girl had been loved. That much Jane knew for sure. It wasn't much, but it was something.

As her thoughts cleared, Jane realized that once again she had stalled on the stairs, this time halfway between the landing and the top. She was surprised to notice that there were tears in her eyes, and a few on her cheeks as well. Smiling and feeling the familiar ache in her chest, the one that was sadness and regret and disgust and thankfulness and yes, even love, and so many other things rolled up into one – because nothing in her life was simple, including her own feelings – she pushed herself up the rest of the stairs.

Quickly gathering what she needed from her bag on the floor in Kurt's childhood room, she was almost at the door when she looked up and saw light coming in from between the dark curtains on the window. She forgot her hurry to shower and get back downstairs once again, and walked towards the light as if drawn by some sort of magnetic force. After all, she was fairly sure she knew what lay outside that window after seeing Kurt staring out it into the darkness the night before.

Pushing aside the curtains, she looked out into the overcast but snow-covered day outside the window. There were many trees dotting the land, mostly off toward the back of the house, and appearing to converge into the woods that Kurt had talked about, and she knew that back there somewhere there was a stream, as well… and of course, that hiding place that Kurt had talked about, where he used to go to wait for Taylor to return. Her gaze returned to the direction she'd been drawn to look at and yet was almost avoiding looking at.

Straight ahead, not right up beside the house, the way buildings were built in the boroughs of New York with which she was familiar, but not too far away, so that it was still easy to make out the major details… There stood the house that she was almost certain had been Taylor's. Instead of the memories that had flooded her on the stairs, this time she felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

After all, that was the house from which Bill Weller had abducted the little girl, somehow and for some reason. She wondered if they would ever know what had happened. There was no justice left to get, with the man now dead, and Kurt had told her that he had reburied Taylor "somewhere peaceful." Still, she had been with the FBI long enough now that the _why_ was important to her, even if it wouldn't change anything. Maybe it would have been important to her even if she hadn't been with the FBI. But then again, if she hadn't been with the FBI, she'd still be Remi…

Closing her eyes once again, she was chilled by the thought that, if her memory had _not_ been erased, she would still have been that woman, that frightening stranger who'd shot people without batting an eye – that much Jane remembered. The woman who, from what Jane could tell, had been conditioned to be cold, manipulative, maybe not heartless but definitely not compassionate in the sense that Jane would define it…

Remi had been a soldier in what _she_ had seen as a war, one that Jane refused to accept. Or at least, she refused to accept the methods used by Remi and Sandstorm, no matter how just their "cause" may have been. Burning the country to the ground and starting again, no matter how many people were sacrificed along the way? _Innocent_ people? No, they didn't care about collateral damage, refused to believe that there could be another, more human way. But _she –_ Jane – was not one of _them_. Not anymore. And for that, knowing what she knew, Jane was truly grateful.

Suddenly, she heard the voice in her head speaking to her, calmly and rationally. Taking a deep breath, she let the words wash over her. _It's easy to hate her – Remi, that is – and no one would blame you if you do. You – she –_ _ **whoever**_ _– may have done this to yourself for a set of reasons that horrifies you now,_ the voice in her head told her calmly, _but you – she – did yourself the biggest favor you could ever have done, without even knowing it. It's okay to be horrified by the things that Remi did, but remember to have compassion for her as well,_ she told herself calmly.

 _She was a product of her environment. We all are, it's just that some of us are luckier than others. She drew the short stick in life in so many ways. In another life, she might have been a much kinder person. She might have been you… she_ _ **is**_ _you, after all…_

 _The important thing is, you're_ _ **not**_ _her anymore. And because of that, try to find it in yourself to forgive her for the things she did. After all, if she hadn't been her, you wouldn't be you. You wouldn't be_ _ **here**_ _. Without meaning to, she gave you a gift. The gift of a new beginning._

There was a noise behind her, pulling her quickly from her thoughts, and she turned to find Kurt coming through the door, closing it quietly behind him and looking both surprised and concerned to find her standing there staring out the window. She hadn't even made it to the shower yet, and she had no idea how long it had been since she'd come upstairs. Turning around as he approached her, she smiled at him to alleviate what she expected to be his immediate worry.

"Hey," he said, stopping close to her, but not as close as he wanted to be. "Everything okay?" He fought the urge to put his arms around her, though he couldn't explain why.

"Yeah," she said, looking to him like she'd just seen a ghost. "I kept getting lost in thought… it took me forever just to get up the stairs."

The concern on his face at this admission made her heart melt, and she shook her head, her smile turning more genuine than the forced one that had been on her face to start with. "Being here… it's just…" She stopped and shook her head. "I can't imagine what it's like for _you_ , if it feels like this for _me_ , and…" Pausing, she considered her words carefully.

 _What am I even trying to say?_ She really wasn't sure.

"It's… I don't know. I mean… I was never here… no matter how it _feels_."

He nodded, swallowing hard, and thinking about how strange it must feel for her, knowing that she wasn't Taylor, and yet having been conditioned to believe that she had been. She would probably always feel it, a connection to Taylor, just because for the whole first part of the life that she could remember, being Taylor had been such a big part of her identity. And now with everything that had happened since that terrible day that they'd both found out that she _wasn't_ Taylor… all of the hurt between them… Her baggage was different than his, a different kind of burden, but a burden nonetheless. He could see that now, while for so long he hadn't been able to.

They stood there, looking into each other's eyes for a minute, only a few inches between them and yet, both of them hesitating for some reason. Neither of them quite knew what to say, or what to do. Finally, he reached out and took her hand gently, her left with his right, smiling at her encouragingly. She felt her strength returning, felt the fog in her head suddenly clearing. Her mouth curled into a smile, the same one that felt so goofy – the same one she'd been wearing on her face since they'd started the trip together.

"I was going to go take a shower, wasn't I?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"No rush, but yeah, you were," he told her, knitting his fingers more tightly through her own.

"Well, I'll be quick," she said, looking into his eyes and still not moving. Glancing down at their joined hands, then back up at him in amusement, she added, "Though you may need to let go of my hand for that to happen."

He squeezed her hand, then let it drop slowly back to her side. "Sorry," he grinned.

"Don't be," she replied, still looking into his eyes. They heard Sawyer's riotous laughter from downstairs then, breaking the trance they both seemed to be under, staring at each other, and they both looked away, laughing quietly.

"Go take a shower," he told her, "I'm going to investigate what's so funny downstairs. Just… you think you can find your way back down when you're done? Without getting lost in your thoughts?"

"Haha," she told him, making a face. "I'll be down to find you soon."

He nodded in agreement, then forced himself to walk towards the door. He'd almost gone through it when he hesitated, stopped and looked back at her once more, grinning as though he was going to say something, but didn't. As she watched in amusement, he finally left, closing the door behind him.

Not knowing what to make of any of it, but thinking that this kind of uncertainty was alright with her, She was almost at the door when she remembered that he'd told her to wear his green sweater so that she wouldn't be cold outside. She had already looked carefully through everything in her bag, but there had been no green sweater… which meant that it was in _his_ bag. Swallowing hard, she looked over at it hesitantly, trying to remember exactly what he'd said to her downstairs.

"… _put on my green sweater. I'm not sure which bag it's in, yours or mine, but it's the warmest one."_

She supposed that counted as permission to look for it in his bag, though she felt very uncomfortable doing so. It felt… It felt like something that only someone with a significantly closer relationship with him would do, _should_ do…

 _But he told you to put it on, whichever bag it was in,_ she reminded herself.

Kneeling on the floor, she turned to the bag beside hers, eyeing it as if it was a sleeping animal and might awaken if she made any sudden move toward it. Leaning over slowly, she carefully unzipped the bag, pulled back the fabric on either side and peering inside. It looked… completely ordinary.

 _What exactly were you expecting?_ she asked herself. She didn't have an answer, going through his bag just seemed too… _personal_ … like an invasion of privacy.

 _Just find the sweater and close the bag,_ she told herself, _And stop being silly._

Pushing aside everything that didn't look green, trying to get it over with as fast as possible, she quickly but carefully found the sweater he'd been talking about. She pulled it out, trying her best to push the rest of the contents of the bag back into place neatly, and zipped the bag closed again. The sweater was thick and yet _very_ soft, and a beautiful green color which, she had to admit, did look a little bit like the color of her eyes. It seemed very likely that Sarah had bought this for him.

Now that she finally had what she needed, she took her clothes with her into the bathroom at the end of the hall and took a quick but very refreshing shower. Having completed the task that she had come upstairs to accomplish, she hoped that she could get back downstairs, where the others were, without getting stuck in her thoughts again. It had surprised her just how hard being here had hit _her._ She'd known that it would be hard for Kurt, but _she_ 'd thought of the trip in terms of getting a better understanding of him. She'd completely underestimated how much her own connection to Taylor Shaw would mean.

Kurt had heard the boards creak about him when Jane had finally walked down the hall to the bathroom to shower, and just the fact that he could track her movement through the house made him smile. Suddenly, after these past few days, during which she'd barely been away from his side, it felt strange to him when she wasn't there. It was as though something important was missing. Some _one_ important.

 _It doesn't work that way,_ he told himself. _That's just… impossible. It's been less than forty-eight hours…_

 _And yet,_ he told himself, _it feels like the two of us have always had this… This…_ He struggled to think of the right word. _This_ _ **what**_ _?_

 _No,_ he finally realized, _just… THIS_. No other word was necessary.

He sat on the living room couch, listening to Sarah and Sawyer go on and on about something that was make both of them laugh uproariously, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was. Not that he'd really been listening. He knew that he'd been zoning out again, his thoughts wandering, as they seemed to do freely here. Without Jane to focus on, all he saw was the ghost of Taylor. Here in the living room seemed to be where he saw her most of all, since they had spent so much time together here.

There she was in front of him again, skipping in circles, giggling like crazy.

Sitting on the floor licking an overfilled ice cream cone – chocolate, her favorite – that was dripping all over her fingers, a deliriously happy grin on her face.

Taking off her socks and throwing them across the room, yelling at the top of her lungs how much she hated socks, which had made both himself and Sarah laugh so hard, their stomachs hurt.

Begging him – _begging him_ – to watch the Smurfs with her. Of course, he had given in.

Then he blinked, and she was running through the doorway, completely out of breath, pausing only long enough to locate him where he stood in the center of the room, and then barreling into him, almost knocking him over just by the force with which she threw her arms around his waist. Something had scared her – he couldn't remember what now. All he remembered was kneeling down and hugging her back, and that she clung so hard to him that at that moment, it had felt like she was never going to let go.

 _Taylor…_ Her named echoed through his mind, a sound so deafeningly loud that he couldn't hear any other sounds or thoughts. At that moment, when his sadness and regret and all of the feelings of inadequacy over his perceived failures drowned out everything else, the only thing he could think to do was… to find Jane.

He stood up and made a beeline for the stairs, no longer hearing the happy noise made by his sister and his nephew. His head was full of Taylor, and though he _knew_ that the connection was only in his head, all he could think of to do was to go upstairs and make sure Jane was safe.

Arriving at the top of the stairs, he found that the noise in his head wasn't as loud up here. No, he shouldn't say that… it was just different. Taylor had come upstairs many times – of course she had – but not as much as they'd hung out downstairs. Upstairs there were more thoughts of his father, which were far darker, angrier. The noise in his head had quieted a little, and he could hear that the shower was running in the bathroom, which told him that Jane was still in there. Since he had to wait, he stepped into his old bedroom to try to cool down.

The problem was, of course, that there was nowhere in this house where there wasn't _something_ that triggered some sort of unpleasant memory for him. Now in his old bedroom, which he'd never been comfortable in to start with, his eyes were immediately drawn to the window. How many times had he stood there, staring out of the window? How many _hours_ had he spent staring out that window? Looking out at Taylor's old house, long since sold after Emma Shaw had died, he felt the familiar rage he'd felt with his father as a teenager. He'd learned how to channel that hostility as he'd gotten older, but he was dismayed to learn that it was still there, apparently just as present now as when he'd been ten years old.

 _Nothing has changed,_ he told himself, which only made him angrier.

 _Of course they have,_ the voice in his head answered calmly. Even that calm irritated him just then, but the voice continued. _Lots of things have. Think of all of the people you've helped. The children you've saved. Think of—_

 _But not her,_ he protested stubbornly, just like he always did.

 _No,_ the voice replied sadly. _Not her. That's not going to change. You have to move past it._

 _I thought I_ _ **had**_ , he thought, glad that he was having this conversation with himself and not a person outside of this head, because he hated how broken he sounded. _Well, maybe not moved past it, but at least… made peace with it. But being here again… now I see that I'm never going to._

 _You will… if you_ _ **let**_ _yourself,_ the voice said. Once again, its calm was making him angrier.

 _How can I let myself move past that? Like it never happened?_ he demanded. He wanted to smash something, an urge he hadn't had since that night… the night that he had arrested Jane.

 _No,_ the voice said, _not like it never happened. No one is asking you to forget. To forget her._

 _It's just not fair,_ he raged, knowing that he sounded like a child.

 _No, it's not,_ the calm voice said. _Life is not fair. You're here and she isn't. Your father killed her, and he got away with it. You'll never know what made him do it, what sickness could possibly have driven him to do such a thing, what kind of "accident" he would have claimed that it was if he'd ever admitted that it happened. You'll never know. And Taylor's disappearance made you who you are today… and brought you to where you are._

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm down.

That was when the door opened, and he looked over his shoulder to see Jane standing in the doorway, surprised to see him. Suddenly, the anger drained from him almost completely.

Opening the door to the bedroom, where she just needed to put away her pajamas, she paused in surprise. She hadn't expected to see Kurt back there already. If anything, she would have expected him to avoid that room if possible… but maybe the whole house had an equally strong effect on him as his bedroom.

"Hey," she said quietly, closing the door behind her. He glanced in her direction, but said nothing. The look on his face was anguished, and she knew that his thoughts had sabotaged him again.

 _If not for your past, you wouldn't be here,_ the calm voice in Kurt's head said. Jane had knelt down to put away her clothes and he looked back out the window, his mind reeling once again from the idea that his present, which he was so happy about, was a result of his past, which caused him so much pain. He just couldn't reconcile the fact that he could deserve something good because of such a spectacular _failure._

 _It doesn't work that way,_ the voice in his head said kindly, _and you_ _ **know**_ _that. Taylor was not a sacrifice that you made, and Jane is not here to make up for Taylor. They are two separate people. The connection is the path that your life has taken, the ripples that come from each of your decisions and the decisions of those around you. You have nothing to prove to anyone, and Taylor was_ _ **not your fault**_ _._

The words still sounded hollow in his ears, more so now than ever. No matter how many times he heard them, he wasn't sure he could ever believe it. Not really.

She knelt by her bag and quickly slipped her pajamas back in, then stood up and walked over to the window. He'd been looking out at the same view she'd looked at earlier when she'd come in, turning to look at her over his shoulder. Now he was turned back toward the snowy view once again, appearing lost in thought. Or maybe just _lost_.

Walking up beside him, she looked out at the view, then turned slightly to look up at him. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "that's it."

Somehow she knew that he meant that the house she'd been looking at earlier was Taylor's house. It seemed like the longer they spent together, the more they were back to being so in tune with each other, it was almost as though they could read each other's minds. Maybe even _better_ than they'd ever been able to _before_.

 _How cruel,_ she thought, _that he'd had to spend his whole childhood staring at the house of the girl for whose disappearance he felt so responsible._

Exhaling slowly, she suddenly felt unsteady again. How could she somehow _feel_ like Taylor, and yet not be Taylor? _Worry_ that she was still Remi, somewhere deep inside her – because sometimes she did worry just that – even though she didn't feel like Remi? No, she wasn't either of them, and yet… suddenly she felt as though she knew both Taylor and Remi better than she knew herself, Jane. Who in the world was she? And all that was secondary, really, because there was something happening in Kurt's head, inches away from her, and she felt powerless to help _him_. It was all simply too much.

Unsure of whether it was because of her own confusion or the empathy for the man beside her, or maybe both, all she knew was that just when she was about to reach out towards the trim around the window to steady herself, she felt his arm around her waist, keeping her from falling. Looking up at him in surprise, she noticed that the far-away look in his eyes that had been there a few seconds ago was gone, and he was now focused exclusively on her.

"I've got you," he told her quietly, as she leaned against him and attempted to steady her breathing, which he hadn't even realized had been uneven. After a few seconds he turned away from the window, standing in front of her, and put his other arm around her. She wasn't sure if this was to give her additional support or for his own reassurance somehow, but it didn't matter to her just then.

It was like he'd said that morning when she'd brought up the night before – how it hadn't been clear who'd needed who more in the middle of the night. It didn't matter. What mattered was that they were both _there_ , leaning on each other.


	24. Sky

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

They stood there for a minute, each drawing strength from the other. Though he didn't want to, Kurt stepped back slowly, his eyes immediately finding and locking onto hers. "I should go and shower… I'll be quick." In his eyes was the question – _Will you be okay while I'm gone?_

Smiling back at him and knowing that a few minutes wasn't – shouldn't be – a big deal, she forced her head to nod, even though after the past half hour or so, she wasn't sure she could go even that long and trust her thoughts not to go back to places she didn't want them to go.

 _What's wrong with me?_ she wondered. _I've gone for_ _ **months**_ _without anyone caring about me whatsoever. I'm not some weepy, weak, needy woman who can't cope on my own. I've_ _ **always**_ _coped on my own._

 _Don't make this about that,_ the voice in her head told her patiently. _No one would accuse you of being weak for needing him in this situation. You're just as entitled to be traumatized by what has happened to you as Kurt. After everything you've been through… weak is the last thing you are. You need to give yourself some credit. And a break._

He dropped his hands from her reluctantly, stepping backward again, out of arms' reach and turning around to walk to his bag. After rifling through it for a minute and taking out what he needed, he smiled back at her and then disappeared out the door into the hall, the door closing softly behind him.

It was as though her calm went with him, however, and she looked around the room as if looking for an unseen enemy. Of course, her mind was the one generating the problems, so there was no actual enemy to be seen. She knew that, but that knowledge didn't seem to help.

Sinking down to the floor beside the bed, where the sleeping bag still lay from that morning, she sat down on top of it, her back against the bed, her knees folded up in front of her. Though she knew that she should probably go downstairs and find Sarah and Sawyer, the sound of their laughter filtering up from downstairs just wasn't something she was prepared to deal with. Sarah, unlike her brother, seemed to be unbothered by the ghosts of this house… or maybe she just hid it better. In any case, the two of them were downstairs having fun, something that Jane wasn't prepared to fake at that moment. At least, not without Kurt. It was easier to distance herself from her feelings when she was alone. It was much harder when she was around other people and had to pretend.

And so there she sat, taking shallow breaths in and out and reminding herself that it was all just in her mind. She could've said that about so many different things, really. There was a _lot_ that was all in her mind, after all – though she couldn't decide if that should make her feel better or worse. Over the past months, since she'd been back with the FBI, she'd endured far worse bouts of panic, of desperation than this… but in a way it had been easier, because she'd built up walls around herself for protection from those feelings. Now, those walls had crumbled, she was dismayed to realize. While she knew that she had somehow landed in a better place, still this better place was a little bit terrifying at that moment.

Sitting there on the sleeping bag into which she had crawled with Kurt twice now, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against her knees in front of her, her arms wrapped around them but not in the vice-like grip that they had been downstairs when he'd given her the necklace. She tried to force her thoughts back to happier things. The feel of the cool metal disc that meant so much to her between her fingers. Waking up with him, inside that very sleeping bag that morning, and the calm that she'd felt. Nothing else had mattered in that moment – not old ghosts or who they may or may not have been in other parts of their lives, only the two of them and who they were _now_. After all, that was how it should have been, wasn't it?

He walked back into the room five – okay, maybe seven at most – minutes later and saw her sitting on the sleeping bag, her back up against the bed and wrapped up in a ball the same way she had been after he'd given her the necklace. Immediately he felt his heart contract tightly, wondering what had happened. He set the bundle of his discarded pajamas down on top of his bag and sank down on the floor beside her, facing her, so that he was looking at her profile.

"Jane," he said quietly, "are you okay?" He laid a hand on her bicep before he'd even thought about doing it.

She lifted her head and he was relieved to see that there was a smile on her face, despite the hint of stress that he saw there as well. "Yeah," she said, looking at him gratefully. "Just… waiting for you."

"Come on," he said, pushing himself up off the floor and extending his hand to her. "Let's get out of this house for a little while."

While that sounded good to her, she had to wonder if _outside_ the house would be any less stressful than _inside_ the house. After all, they were still within the confines of his childhood. She could only _hope_ that both of them would feel less haunted outside. It was certainly worth a try, however. Besides, they'd be there _together_ , and that counted for a lot.

She reached up gratefully, and when he grabbed her hand, she felt warmth rush through her, seeming to go straight to her cheeks, which she felt turning pink. Feeling herself blushing, she looked away, and then back at him slowly, only to find him looking at her with the most genuinely kind look in his eyes… it was the kind of look that she was afraid to get used to, and yet, she was already addicted to it.

He held onto her hand as they walked to the door and out into the hall, as she simply held out her arm fall behind her as she went through the door frame in front of him, so that he could keep hold of her hand. They walked right past all of the places where the two of them had seen ghosts of Kurt and Taylor's pasts – since they weren't _actually_ part of Jane's past, no matter how strongly she _felt_ like they were – and when they came to the stairs their hands reluctantly dropped. However, his hand went directly to her shoulder, squeezing slightly as she descended the stairs in front of him.

At the bottom, his hand slid down her arm back to her hand, and even though she was wearing his thick green sweater, she felt goosebumps erupt under the two layers of cloth that separated the skin of his fingers from the skin of her arms. Somehow it both comforted her and made her a little nervous at the same time that she could have this kind of a reaction to him, but she just smiled. After all, they'd made it this far.

His hand squeezed hers and then, too soon, he let go. She felt the loss of contact immediately, and was surprised how strongly she felt it. "Let's go see what those two are up to," he said. "I need to ask Sarah about the snow pants situation." She just nodded, following him into the next room, feeling the goofy smile settle on her face again.

"Hey, Sarah," Kurt called, coming around the corner and finding his sister and nephew kneeling on the floor by the TV at the far side of the living room, going through a large, cardboard box of movies on old VHS tapes. Sarah looked up and smiled when she saw that the two of them.

"Hey," she grinned up at them, which only made Kurt roll his eyes at her, though the grin on his face was even bigger – he just didn't know it. "We were just inspecting the Christmas movie selection around here."

"Is there a VCR to _play_ those things?" Kurt asked, astonished at the thought of how old they must be. He stopped just behind Sarah, looking down at the covers of the tapes that he grudgingly recognized from their childhood.

"Yep, it was still hooked up to the TV, even," Sarah replied, shaking her head.

"Wow," Kurt replied. "I haven't seen VHS tapes in… I don't even _know_ how long." Sarah just nodded. "So," he said, changing the subject, "you said you had some snow pants and maybe boots that Jane could borrow?"

Sawyer, hearing the word snow, was suddenly standing up beside his uncle and bouncing excitedly. "You're going outside? In the _snow_?" he asked, nearly knocking himself over with excitement. "Mom, I can go outside with them, right?" His face was so hopeful that Sarah hoped very much that Kurt hadn't had his heart set on just going outside with Jane.

"That's up to Uncle Kurt," Sarah said, sitting back on her knees, and then standing up slowly.

"Can I, Uncle Kurt? Please? _Please?_ _**Please**_?" he begged, increasingly frantic.

Kurt chuckled. Sawyer sure was excited. "Of course, buddy. I need your help showing Jane all the fun stuff you can do in the snow."

"This is going to be **awesome**!" he exclaimed, and then took off running toward the front entryway, where his snow gear was hanging up from earlier when he and Sarah had ventured outside.

"And to answer your original question, yes, I have snow pants that should fit Jane. I'm not sure about the boots, but definitely try and see if they fit. All that stuff should be in the front, with Sawyer's. Shouldn't be hard to miss," she told them.

Jane smiled gratefully in her direction. "Thanks, Sarah," she said.

"Oh, thank _you_ two for getting my son out of the house. Hopefully he'll burn off some more of that unlimited energy of his out there. Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the quiet in here."

"Everybody wins," Kurt replied, turning towards the front door. With Jane now in front of him, having followed him into the room and then turned to walk out first, he took advantage of the few seconds it would take them to walk to the front of the house, stepping up close behind her. She seemed to have intentionally slowed her pace, and for a few seconds, they were walking very close together. Though they weren't quite touching, when she turned to look at him over her shoulder, her face was suddenly much closer to his than she'd expected – which was a welcome surprise. Their eyes met for a second, and she felt herself grinning involuntarily once again.

He watched the smile on her face widen, and he had a feeling that his smile might be just as wide as hers. He fought the urge to lean forward, pull her to a stop, and kiss her, since they were coming into Sawyer's line of sight. When his eyes shifted toward his nephew, beyond Jane, Kurt saw that the boy was looking at them skeptically, his snow pants already on.

"You're not going to…?" the ten year old said sternly, and it was very clear what he meant, even without the last word of the question. To Kurt's amusement, apparently he didn't even want to _say_ the word _kiss_ , much less _see_ any more kissing.

Kurt leaned back as Jane turned around to face Sawyer, both looking at him seriously. "Nope," Kurt said sincerely. "I promise."

"Good," Sawyer replied, his worry seemingly taken care of. With that, he sat down to put on his boots, and as soon as his nephew's eyes were averted, Kurt leaned forward very quickly, and gave Jane a silent peck on the cheek. As innocent as it was, she felt herself blush. It was really that easy for him to make her smile.

Kurt opened the duffle bag of winter gear they had brought, and between the contents of the bag and the snow pants from Sarah, they suited up for outside. Sarah's tall snow boots hadn't fit Jane, unfortunately, but Jane had the slightly less than ideal, shorter boots. They agreed that they would be better than nothing, since neither of them had planned to embark on an all-day trek through the snow.

Sawyer had already ducked out into the front yard, and Kurt pulled the door closed just enough that his nephew couldn't see him lean in close to Jane and whisper, "Let me know if those boots aren't keeping your feet warm, okay?"

His eyes were locked on hers, and it was hard to think about anything except him when he was that close to her, but she nodded her agreement.

"I'm serious, Jane. I know you have a tendency to want to deny that anything bothers you, but we don't want you getting frostbite. That's even less fun than hypothermia. Okay?"

She couldn't help but smile at how over protective he was being. Of course she wasn't going to just walk around from frozen feet or ankles all afternoon. Granted, she could see why he might _think_ that she would… She could grudgingly admit – to _herself,_ anyway – that she did have a tendency to ignore her own discomfort, no matter how severe.

He leaned close to her face, their noses pressing together, and she felt warmth flood through her despite the cold air that was coming in through the partially open door. "I promise," she whispered, and was about to lean forward to kiss him when Sawyer pushed into the opening of the door, and Jane jumped back out of the way.

"Foiled again by the youngster," Kurt mumbled, once they'd assured Sawyer that they were indeed following him outside, _yes, right now_. Jane just chuckled. Of course she'd wanted to kiss him, but it wasn't as though she wouldn't get another chance.

The three went out into the frigid air, and for a few seconds Kurt just stopped and looked around at the snow covered landscape. Of course, he'd been here on plenty of snowy days as a kid, but somehow he didn't remember it ever looking quite this… what? It looked different enough from the way he remembered it that the dull ache in his chest that had settled over him earlier seemed to lessen slightly. He could _almost_ pretend that he was somewhere else, _anywhere_ else…

But then they followed Sawyer on the path that he and Sarah had made through the deep snow around the back of the house, where "the best snow to play in," according to Sawyer, was to be found. Once they got back there, Kurt was once again overwhelmed by the familiar dull ache in his heart. After all, Taylor's house was within his peripheral vision. With a sigh, he just accepted that as long as they were there in Clearfield, he was just going to keep seeing her everywhere, as much as it pained him.

Turning so that his back was to Taylor's house, he found himself looking at the wooden fort, the one that he had tipped over the night he and Sarah had dug up that entire area, not finding Taylor's remains… He turned again, trying to position himself so that both Taylor's house _and_ the fort, as well as his own former home, were all behind him. It was very complicated.

Jane noticed when Kurt looked over towards Taylor's house, and the look on his face when he deliberately turned away. Then as she watched, she saw that same look come over his face when he faced a small wooden structure that may have been a playhouse in the Weller children's childhood. He faced away from that as well, and then finally appeared to relax.

 _So many demons,_ she thought sadly to herself. Sawyer had busied himself with making snowballs, which he was piling up by his feet, dipping his hands again and again into the snow and quickly amassing quite an arsenal. Jane moved in front of Kurt, stopping about a foot away and looking into his eyes worriedly.

 _Are you okay?_ her eyes asked, without her uttering a word. He nodded at her, his mouth twitching slightly in the way that she somehow understood to mean that he was working at it, but that he was okay - mostly.

And then just like that, a snowball hit him in the arm, and a snowball fight had been declared – by Sawyer, of course. When they turned in the direction of the raucous laughter that echoed across the silent frozen landscape, they saw Sawyer nearly doubled over, finding it completely hilarious that he had been the one to fire the first shot.

"You did _not_ just hit me with a snowball!" Kurt called, pretending to be shocked, quickly stooping down and scooping snow together to form a large snowball of his own. He launched it at his nephew, which only made Sawyer laugh even harder, even though the snowball hit him squarely in the middle of his chest and seemed to explode in a puff of flying whiteness. Sawyer simply launched another snowball back at Kurt. This one missed his ear by about an inch, and Kurt's eyes grew wide. Jane had been watching in amusement, and now she watched carefully, then imitated Kurt's technique to make a snowball, launching it at Sawyer as he reached for another of his pre-made ones. The volley had begun, and it went on steadily, back and forth, for several minutes as all of the participants laughed and retaliated time and time again.

"Jane! Are you sure you want to be on Uncle Kurt's team? Or do you want to come over to my side?" Sawyer called, giving her one more chance for amnesty. Jane looked at him thoughtfully for a second, then called, "I don't think I'm ready to declare my allegiance yet," which made both Wellers look at her in surprise.

Kurt grinned at her as he packed another snowball. "You'd better hurry up and figure it out," he said, "a close range snow attack is very… well, _cold_." He winked at her then.

"Hey Jane, what did you mean when you said you're not ready to 'declare your allegiance?'" Sawyer called from where he had begun restocking his supply of snowballs while he figured out just what was going on.

"It means she doesn't want to say whose team she's on yet," Kurt called.

"Maybe I'm on my own team," Jane called, trying to run off into the snow but quickly discovering that running in snow wasn't exactly easy. She looked at her feet as if they'd betrayed her, then bent down where she was and started forming snowballs, looking from Kurt to Sawyer, trying to figure out which one of them would be the target of her first attack. There wasn't really a question in her mind though – of course it would be Kurt.

Kurt was bent over, forming snowballs and dropping them in front of them, creating a stockpile while Jane figured out what she wanted to do, so he didn't see her wind up and throw her very first ever snowball directly at him. Since he'd been bent over and Jane was, of course, an excellent shot, it hit him squarely on the top of his head. He looked up in surprise, his eyes automatically going to Sawyer, but Sawyer pointed at Jane.

"Oh, you guys are teaming up on me, now?" Kurt called, laughing.

"Yep," Jane called back, wading through the snow to where Sawyer had stationed himself, testing her throwing arm with her next snowball from the new distance. This snowball hit Kurt squarely in the chest, and for a second he pretended to be upset before a wide grin spread across his face.

"I'm just warning you, the two of you may both have that 'cute' thing going on," Kurt called to Sawyer and Jane, "But it won't save you this time. I'm going to be ruthless…

"Thanks for the tip, Uncle Kurt," Sawyer called, then motioned for Jane to come closer, and when she did, they whispered conspiratorially behind his gloved hand. As he watched, Kurt picked up as many snowballs as he could hold in his left arm, leaving his right arm free for throwing. Then suddenly, with impressive coordination, both Jane and Sawyer threw their snowballs at the same time. Jane's hit Kurt just above the knee, and from the surprised look on his face, it may have hit him a little harder than she'd intended. Sawyer's snowball thumped lightly against his stomach, prompting him to immediately fall backwards dramatically into the snow, but not before he threw a snowball at each of the in retaliation on his way down.

The snowball he'd thrown at Sawyer had sailed past him, but the one he'd thrown at Jane had exploded in a puff of cold powder against her neck, sending quickly melting snowflakes down her neck and in the space under her jacket as well as all over the side of her face. She swiped at them quickly, trying to at least remove the ones she could get to on her skin, which were melting and, she noticed, feeling very cold and wet.

At that moment, Sarah called to Sawyer from the back door, and Sawyer tromped back toward the house to see what his mom wanted. As she watched the boy retreat, Jane looked back over at Kurt, still lying still in the snow. She decided to make her way over to him to make sure he was okay – it seemed strange that he hadn't gotten up.

Kurt was now lying flat on his back, staring up at the sky. He'd thrown himself backwards on purpose, to be dramatic, but now that he was here, staring up at the gray clouds, it had reminded him of something. Of Taylor, of course, because _everything_ in this whole damn place reminded him of Taylor. He sighed, resigning himself to the memory.

Interestingly enough, it had been summer at the time, but they had been lying in the grass, side by side and flat on their backs, looking up at the angry clouds just before a rainstorm.

 _The sky looks angry,_ Taylor had said worriedly.

 _No, that's just how the sky looks before a thunderstorm,_ Kurt had assured her.

 _But how do we_ _ **know**_ _?_ Taylor had asked. Of course, he had been nine years old at that time, or something like that, so he _knew_ that the sky wasn't really angry. It was just the way that weather worked, after all.

 _Because some really smart scientists figured out that when the sky looks like that, it means it's going to storm,_ he'd told her patiently.

 _But how do_ _ **they**_ _know?_ Taylor had continued to insist. _What if they're all wrong? What if the sky_ _ **is**_ _angry? What if we could do something and make it happy, and we just don't because we think it's just the weather?_

Present day Kurt smiled sadly, remembering the day so clearly, remembering Taylor's insistent belief that maybe the scientists were _wrong_ , something that had never crossed his mind.

 _Well then,_ he had said, deciding he wasn't going to win his argument with logic, _what should we do to make it happy?_

Taylor had thought hard for a minute, staring at the ever darkening sky the way you would a person you were trying to understand.

Finally, she stuck her arm straight up toward the sky and waved enthusiastically. _Hi, sky!_ she had yelled at the top of her lungs. _Hi up there! Have a nice day!_

He'd turned to look at her then. At only four years old, she still had the luxury of an innocence that Kurt no longer did. Maybe he never _had_ been that innocent, especially since his mom had left them years ago. Without warning, the urge to protect that innocence in her asserted itself, and he looked up at the sky waving his hand – though less enthusiastically than Taylor had, but waving nonetheless – and calling _Hi, sky! We see you up there._

He had felt ridiculous, but he didn't care. To his surprise, less than a minute later, the ominously dark cloud that had been directly over them seemed to blow past, and they could see the sun shining through what must have been a much thinner, lighter cloud. The light was still filtered, but the difference was remarkable.

 _See!_ Taylor had shouted triumphantly. _See! It worked! We made the sky happy!_

It was impossible, of course, and a very mature nine year old Kurt knew that. You couldn't make the sky happy any more than you could make the grass happy.

 _Are you sure? Absolutely_ _ **sure**_ _?_ the voice in his head asked. _How can you ever know something like that 100% for certain? How can_ _ **anyone**_ _?_ He had to concede to himself that he could not prove Taylor wrong, though he was 99% sure.

 _Hi, sky,_ he thought sadly, back in the present. And then, because why the hell not, he added one more thought.

 _Hi, Taylor. I'm sorry…_

He didn't know if he believed in God or heaven or any of that stuff, but somehow it was nicer to think of her somewhere out in the universe, in a better place that the world where she'd been treated so cruelly, than to think that she was just simply _gone_.

Jane reached him then, having made her way slowly over to him and now standing by his feet, looking at him with concern. "Kurt, are you okay?" she asked. "Or… just taking a little nap?" She smiled at him crookedly, then walked around the side of him. They were both very bundled up, but she could see enough of his face to see that his expression was distant and sad, very unlike the carefree one that had been on his face when he'd fallen backwards into the snow. She'd seen this expression several times already that day, and she knew that something had reminded him of Taylor. It shouldn't surprise her, she knew. _Everything_ was reminding him of Taylor. She was everywhere here. That, plus his hatred of his father, had been the reason he hadn't been back in decades.

Turning back to glance at the house, she saw that Sawyer had finished talking to Sarah and now seemed to be rolling giant snowballs into place, one beside another. He appeared to have some kind of purpose to what he was doing, which told her that she and Kurt probably had at least a few minutes before he got curious about what was going on over here.

She looked back at Kurt just in time to see his face change, his expression suddenly one that was somewhere between amazement and pain, a quiet gasp escaping from his lips. Turning to look up at the sky, Jane saw that the clouds had parted just a tiny bit, and weak rays of sunlight were shining through. Blinking at the sudden brightness, as the light was reflected by the whiteness all around them, she looked back at Kurt. She could be wrong, of course, or it could just be the cold or the light or a combination of both, but she swore that his eyes were watering.

Cursing the fact that they were so bundled up, she sat up on her knees and "walked" forward slightly until her legs touched the edge of his jacket. Leaning over him carefully and looking down at him with concern, she uttered only one word.

"Taylor?" she asked simply.

He just nodded, and he suddenly felt a flood of guilt. He was here with Jane, and he was ridiculously happy that he was, and yet it seemed like all he could think of was Taylor. He must seem like a broken record to her by now.

 _You know her better than that_ , the voice in his head reminded him. It was true, he realized, and yet still… he wished he didn't _have_ to lean on her quite as much as he'd been doing.

As soon as he nodded, the pit of her stomach filled with a miserable combination of guilt and shame. Once again, she was ashamed that she had used something so intensely personal to him to try to manipulate him.

 _That wasn't_ _ **you**_ _,_ the voice in her head chimed in automatically. _That was_ _ **Remi**_ _._ And yet, somehow she still felt guilty for it.

Looking up at her, he shook his head and smiled sadly, she was doing the same thing he was doing, and it showed on her face. He couldn't help but think that their perfectly matched compassion for each other was just another sign of how well they seemed to just fit together.

Realizing that this wasn't about her, but about him, and that she needed to have her pity party another time, she reached out and picked up his gloved hand, sandwiching it in between both of hers. She'd been surprised to find him watching her when she'd looked up, but she'd just smiled sadly and gone on with what she was going. The pile of their hands, inside their snow gloves, was a little bit ridiculous, but she did her best to hold onto his hand nonetheless. After all, it was the thought that counted… wasn't that the expression?

She was holding one of his hands, and he pushed his other hand again the ground, bracing himself, and pulled himself up to a sitting position, now directly in front of her. "I'm glad you're here, Jane," he said sincerely. "This would have been a lot harder without you."

His admission startled her and for a second, she could only just look at him sadly, her chest aching for what this place must be doing to him, even more than what she could actually see. "Me, too," she finally smiled back at him.

From the look in her eyes, he could see that even if she didn't know what had just happened inside his head, she still somehow understood that something was affecting him. He told himself that he would tell her about these memories that he was having – just then he had the urge to tell her everything, including things that he'd never told _anyone_.

 _It's a good thing_ , the voice in his head reassured him. _It means you trust her_.

As much as he wanted to tell her everything, he decided that he could wait a little while at least, at least until they weren't sitting in the snow. After all, _she_ might not realize that the cold dampness was going to be soaking through their snow pants and leaving them soaked as they sat there, but _he_ knew.

"Come on," he said, pushing himself to stand up, and then putting out his hand to help her up as well, "Let's go see what in the world Sawyer's doing over there with all of those giant snowballs." She let him pull her up, and watched as the lights seemed to come back on inside him. There was still a shadow across his face, but at least she could see that the Kurt she knew and loved – yes, loved – was still in there.

As they got closer to where Sawyer was working, they could see that he had singlehandedly built two walls of giant snowballs, about ten feet apart and facing each other, each wall two snowballs high. This brought them about up to waist height on the ten year old.

"Hey buddy, this is awesome!" Kurt called as they approached.

Sawyer beamed excitedly, panting slightly from the exertion of building and lifting so many huge snowballs. "Mom suggested a snow fort or some kind of 'cover' for our snowball fights," he replied. "They would be better if they were higher, but I can't lift the snowballs up past here…" He shrugged his shoulders, looking at his work proudly despite his professed disappointment.

"Well, I think that Jane and I can help you in that department," Kurt told him. "And _then_ we can continue what you started earlier." He winked at Sawyer, who grinned from ear to ear, clearly excited about the prospect of more snowball fighting. Kurt and Sawyer demonstrated rolling the giant snowballs that Sawyer had used to build the two walls, and Jane made her own successfully, rolling it until it was the size of the ones already on the first wall and then hefting it up on the wall closest to her to make a third level as Kurt watched her proudly.

"Awesome!" Sawyer called. "Now we just need a bunch more of those up there like that."

Jane and Kurt both laughed, shaking their heads. Clearly, this power was going to Sawyer's head, but they continued working anyway. In fact, between the three of them, they finished the third layer on both walls in a relatively short time. Just as they stepped back to admire their work, Sarah was peeking out through the back door again.

"Hey, guys! Lunch is ready! Come in before it gets cold!" With that, she closed the door again, leaving them all looking at each other uncertainly.

Sawyer was the first one to react. "Awww, _man!_ " he said in disappointment, kicking the snow beside his foot with disappointment.

"Hey, Sawyer," Kurt said, walking over to his nephew. "The temperature isn't going up for _days,_ so this'll all still be here later. Let's go recharge a little, take a break, and we'll be ready for an _epic_ snowball fight later." He watched the wheels turning in Sawyer's head. "Maybe," Kurt said slowly, "we'll even convince your mom to come out here and join us." His expression started to change, and he obviously liked the idea of more people in their game, so he nodded, smiling slowly.

"Okay," he declared, turning and walking back toward the house as if going inside had been his own idea.

"Way to go, Uncle Kurt," Jane said with an impressed smile, walking towards him.

"What can I say?" he asked, putting a heavily bundled arm around her shoulders as they started to walk carefully through the snow. "When you got it, you got it." She punched him gently in the stomach, shaking her head and chuckling.

"Let's not get carried away," she warned him with a grin, leaning her head against him and putting her own heavily bundled up arm around his back as they walked carefully through the snow back toward the house. She was only just now noticing that there was snow _inside_ her boots. And her gloves. And… basically, she was pretty sure there was snow inside every part of what she was wearing, and she began shivering for the first time.

"I think," she said slowly, knowing that he was going to tell her that she should have said something sooner, "I have snow in my boots." She left out the rest of it for the time being.

He shook his head and looked at her in pretend exasperation. Instead of the lecture she was expecting, his eyes said it all. What she wasn't expecting, however, was for him to kiss the top of her head.

"I saw that!" they heard Sawyer shout as they rounded the front of the house. "You promised no kissing!"

"Oh, come on, that didn't count!" Kurt yelled back. "I can give _you_ that same kind of kiss!" They both watched in amusement as a horrified look came over Sawyer's face the he practically dove inside the front door.

"Well, now that he's gone," Kurt said, pulling her to a stop and winding his arm around her waist. He pulled off one of his snow gloves, and she was about to ask him what in the world he was doing, when he laid his fingers against her face. His fingers, though cold, were warmer than her cheek, and she leaned into the relative warmth, smiling happily.

He leaned down slowly, pressing his forehead against hers first, then pushed their noses together. She watched him carefully as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, just paused there with his face against hers.

"Are you okay?" she asked after a few seconds. She was still thinking of the look on his face when they'd been in the backyard.

"Right now? Very," he replied, which made her chuckle. However, she couldn't shake a feeling of unease, like the bottom dropping out of her stomach, when she thought back to him lying in the snow. It had obviously rattled him, whatever it had been, even though he hadn't wanted to admit it. Suddenly, her mind just brought her right back to her own – well, Remi's – participation in manipulating him, and once again, she felt her chest ache.

He watched as she went from laughing back to anguished in less than three seconds.

 _We're really quite a pair, aren't we?_ he thought in awe. _How in the world do we_ _ **do**_ _this to ourselves?_

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, her face tightening, "I—"

"No," he said cutting her off. "You don't get to be sorry, not for any of it, and that's final. _It. Was. Not. You._ Do you hear me?"

She felt tears in her eyes, which only made her face feel even colder than it already did.

"Do I wish that my father hadn't done what he did? _Of course_ ," he told her matter-of-factly. "Do I wish that Remi hadn't done what _she_ did?" He made sure to put a heavy emphasis on the word _she,_ to differentiate her as a different person. Then, looking deep into her eyes, he answered his own question, in a voice that was suddenly almost a whisper. "Not for a second."

He watched as her face twisted in confusion, letting her take in his words before he continued. "Because if she hadn't, then _you_ wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be _Jane_. You'd still be Remi. Which means I'd still have the _**bad**_ in my life… because what my father did… he was going to do that whether Sandstorm came along or not. But what I _wouldn't_ have had, if not for Remi… is the _**good**_." He looked at her warningly, his eyes telling her that he wasn't going to allow disagreement on this point. "Because you are the good in my life. And you're not allowed to tell yourself otherwise."

"But—" she started. Realizing that words were not going to deter her arguments, he leaned forwards and kissed her instead.

There was something different about kissing outside in the freezing cold air, she noticed. It made his lips feel warmer, and – or maybe she was imagining it? – softer, too. Far too soon, he pulled back and looked at her again seriously, their faces only far enough apart that he could look her in the eyes, and those eyes dared her to disagree with him.

"I should probably argue with you again if that's the way you're going to shut me up," she said with a grin. "But…" She sighed, smiling slowly at his persistence as her voice dropped to a whisper, "okay, fine." She leaned forward again, her head lower this time, pressing her forehead against his lips and feeling him plant a kiss against her cold skin.

"Haven't we done 'cold' enough for now?" he asked. "Let's go get warmed up."

Nodding with a genuine smile on her face, she looked back up at him and smiled. "Sounds like a plan," she agreed. "Because there's, uh… a _LOT_ of snow in my boots. And my gloves. And… well… everywhere, basically." He stared at her in disbelief as she quickly started walking toward the house.

"You were supposed to tell me that!" he called after her as she moved quickly toward the door.

"I'm telling you now," she called over her shoulder. "I didn't notice. There was a lot going on… You're very distracting, you know."

He shook his head as he followed her to the front door. She was _impossible_.

And he wouldn't change that for anything.


	25. Always

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: Sorry, this is another heavy one, but Kurt may be almost ready to turn an important corner… stay tuned!_

Since Sawyer had ducked inside quickly, and Jane and Kurt had taken their time coming in, by the time they made it inside, the youngest Weller had already finished his lunch. Sarah had made grilled cheese and tomato soup for everyone, a fact that made Kurt immediately skeptical since Sarah wasn't exactly known for her cooking talents.

The two of them took off all of their wet outerwear and got it into the dryer, along with Jane's completely soaked socks. She hadn't been kidding when she'd said that there was a _lot_ of snow inside her boots. Her feet were looking pink enough that he was a little concerned.

"I think everything I'm wearing is damp," Jane said, wrinkling her nose. "And cold. I should probably…"

"Go change?" Kurt asked with a smile. "Yeah, somehow I guess it wasn't a great idea for me to lay down in the snow for quite that long…" The shadow passed over his face again – the one she was beginning to recognize as the one that meant that he'd thought about Taylor. Though it was gone almost as quickly as it had come, she saw it nonetheless, and she put her hand on his arm to remind him that she was there.

"Let's go get something dry to wear, and stick these things in the dryer, and then we can go see what Sarah made," Jane said, looking at him with a steady smile. Just the even tone of her voice helped to calm him down, and he smiled at her gratefully.

"Good idea," he agreed.

They walked up the stairs, slowly and deliberately, each drawing strength from the other's proximity, using it as a shield against the ghosts of the past. At the top, Jane stepped just far enough out of the way that Kurt could step into the hallway before she turned to reassure herself that he was alright, having had to take her eyes off of him to walk up the steps. He saw the concern in her eyes, and he couldn't help but smile at her as they went into his room to retrieve their dry clothes.

Kurt was the first to find his, and he stood up quickly. "I'll just go and change in the bathroom," he told her. "Take your time." Looking up at him and smiling, she noted his strained expression and nodded before looking back at what she was doing.

A few minutes later, now in dry clothes and feeling much better, she emerged from the bedroom holding her damp clothes in a loose bundle, not _too_ close to her side so that they didn't come in contact with what she was wearing now, to find Kurt leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door, his eyes on her.

"Waiting for someone?" she asked with a smile. For as hard as it was for both of them to be there among so many ghosts of the past, they were also doing a lot of smiling when the other one was around.

"Absolutely," he said, pushing off the wall and walking towards her. "You."

"Simple. Direct. I like it," Jane replied as he stopped inches in front of her, the hand that wasn't holding his wet clothes landing on her shoulder, once again sending sparks radiating out through her body from the point where his hand sat.

"Let's go downstairs," he said warmly, using the hand on her shoulder to turn her toward the stairs. She turned around easily from the slight pressure of his fingers against her shoulder, and he was surprised at just how very willing she was to be re-directed. She was now facing away from him, toward the stairs, but she looked back at him over her shoulder, chuckling. "I'm hungry," he added as a rationale for turning her around. "Hopefully it's edible, whatever it is."

Shaking her head, she chose to hope for the best as far as lunch was concerned. "Mmmm, yes, good idea," she replied. As she turned her head forward, her chin brushed against the back of his hand on her shoulder, and she found that even _that_ small touch made her blush yet again. Just before they started down the stairs, she felt the hand on her shoulder tug her slightly and he leaned down to her ear.

"Nice sweatshirt, by the way," he said. His cheek brushed against hers just enough to make her lean towards him in response without even thinking about it. For a second, she felt as though there were butterflies in her stomach.

"Oh, thanks," she replied, as they now stood at the top of the stairs with their cheeks leaned against each other, both knowing very well that it was _his_. "I'm sort of fond of it myself. Or maybe it's just the owner I'm fond of."

More and more, the words and gestures that said that there was _something_ going on between them were just sort of slipping out of both of them, and this was just another instance of that. Jane was glad that she wasn't facing him, and therefore didn't have to look into his eyes in embarrassment over the words that had just slipped out of her mouth. Of course, she also knew that it wasn't as though he _minded_ what she'd said, and her further proof, besides the fact that after the past few, intense days, she simply _knew_ , came when he pressed a kiss to her cheek and squeezed her shoulder.

They heard footsteps that sounded distinctly Sarah-like at the bottom of the stairs, and they straightened up again so that they could walk down before she came up looking for them. When they got to the bottom of the stairs they saw her straightening the boots on the mat along the wall – an excuse, no doubt, to subtly work her way up and look for them, Kurt thought.

"Ready to eat?" she asked them.

"Did you cook _again_?" Kurt asked her skeptically.

"Yes, smarty pants," Sarah replied. "And for the record, it tastes good. But you can come and see for yourself."

Jane shook her head at the teasing between the siblings as they took their wet clothes to add to the load in the dryer, then wandered toward the kitchen. Instead of Jane's shoulder, Kurt's hand now rested lightly on her lower back. She could just barely feel the touch through his thick sweatshirt, and it caused a similarly electric feeling as the other times that he made contact with her.

From the kitchen, they looked over to see Sawyer sprawled out on the couch in the family room, watching the original Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on TV. It was the same version that Kurt and Sarah had watched as kids. He looked up when they walked in and grinned at them, calling, "Uncle Kurt! Jane! Look what we found! It's one of my favorites."

"I love that one," Kurt agreed. "We're gonna have to watch it with Jane later, too." Sawyer looked delighted at the prospect as he happily turned back to the TV.

Sarah set down plates of grilled cheese sandwiches in front of them, followed immediately by bowls of tomato soup. Jane smiled when she saw it, for two reasons.

"It smells great, Sarah," she said appreciatively. "This is the second time a Weller has made this particular meal for me."

Sarah looked with interest from Jane to Kurt, and Kurt looked at her in surprise, a smile growing on his face at the memory.

"You made this for me once," she told him.

"Wow, that was…" he trailed off, remembering when he'd taken care of her during a _very_ nasty bout of poison ivy not long after they'd met. To say that she was allergic to it was quite an understatement.

"A very long time ago," she said, finishing his sentence with a nod, looking back down at her food. There was a heavy silence for a few seconds, as both of them remembered that time, before everything had gotten so… complicated. Before it had all gone so wrong between them.

"Well," Sarah chimed in to break the silence, "I'll bet he didn't make them as fancy as _I_ did." From the look on her face, it was clear that she was dying for someone to ask the obvious question.

"Okay, I'll bite, what makes yours so fancy?" Kurt asked in amusement. The food looked and smelled good, but he still wasn't convinced that it was edible. Past experience with her cooking had made him skeptical, even though it seemed that she'd improved dramatically since they'd moved to Portland.

"Avocado," Sarah replied proudly. Kurt moved the top slice of bread on his sandwich slightly to reveal that there was, indeed, avocado inside, surrounded by melted cheese. Jane happened to be taking a bite at that moment, and she made an appreciative noise.

"Wow," she added when she'd finished chewing, "this is amazing."

"Glad you like it," Sarah said happily, "I've been watching a lot of _Food Network_ ," she admitted with a grin. Jane and Kurt chuckled as they ate, and for the next few minutes the three of them were quiet, just eating their lunches and half listening to Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer floating in from the TV in the adjoining room.

When he'd finished, Kurt stretched and, as he draped his arm over the back of Jane's chair, which came up to the middle of her back, he noticed that he'd moved his chair closer to hers without even noticing. It was just one more thing about Jane that made him smile.

"Just so we're clear, I'm making dinner. Not an all-out fancy Christmas dinner, most likely, since I don't even know what there is in the house, but I'm in charge of that one," Kurt told Sarah sternly once all three of them were finished and the dishes were in the dishwasher.

"Understood. I will diligently relax unless instructed otherwise," Sarah replied seriously, before the façade cracked and she grinned at her brother. He was _so_ serious. Well, except with Jane, who seemed to be _really_ good for him, especially considering how much trouble he must be having with thoughts of Taylor, here of all places.

"What about me?" Jane asked, as Sarah wandered toward the TV, sitting on the couch by Sawyer. "Do I get to help, or am I banished as well?" She looked at him playfully as he pretended to consider the question.

" _You_ can definitely stick around," he told her with a smile. After all, he'd rather have her close to him than anywhere else in the world. "But it's not time to make dinner yet. Why don't we go and join the movie crew? Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is one you _have_ to see. It's a classic."

Jane was feeling sleepy, and the prospect of relaxing with a movie and with Kurt sounded just perfect. "Sounds good," she nodded, standing up and pushing in her chair.

When they walked in, Sarah attempted to get Sawyer to sit up on the couch, but Jane and Kurt both waved her off and headed for the spot on the floor where they'd been sitting before, in front of the fire. Kurt added another log before they sat down, and then before taking his place by Jane, took a large pillow from the armchair at the far end of the couch.

Jane was watching him curiously, and when he sat down slightly behind her at the angle that she was facing to watch the movie, laying the pillow in his lap and tapping the center of it with his hand, she didn't hesitate to lay back against it. His left hand rested just below her left shoulder, and she brought her right hand up, laying her arm across her chest and laid her hand on top of his, holding on gently. His other hand sat lightly against her scalp, just behind her right ear, his fingers moving ever so slightly. It was extremely soothing, and within minutes she felt her eyelids growing heavy. Knowing that she was probably going to fall sleep if he continued, she attempted to tell herself to sit back up. However, she was completely unwilling to do so, as comfortable as she was in exactly that spot.

 _So what if I fall asleep, after all?_

"Kurt," Sarah called him from across the room in a loud whisper. When he tore his eyes away from Jane, whose eyes had closed against her will, and looked up at his sister, he saw that she was ready to toss him a blue and white plaid blanket. Reaching his free arm out for it, he caught it easily, and then went about spreading it over Jane gently, which was a little harder than it would have been if he'd had both of his hands free.

Not too long afterwards, the movie ended and Kurt looked up to see that Sawyer, who Sarah had also covered in a blanket, had also fallen asleep. "Do you want me to put something else on?" she asked him quietly. Kurt shook his head – he hadn't been paying attention to the movie as it was. Between the crackling fire to his left and Jane's head on the pillow in his lap, he was absolutely fine where he was, with no further entertainment required.

"No, thanks, I'm good," he told her in a soft voice.

Sarah could hear something in his voice that told her that her brother was better than "good." He was finally _happy_.

"You know," she whispered, "when I said that I thought that it might be good for you to come back here one more time… I really did think it would _help_." He nodded, his face suddenly pained.

"I know," he said simply.

"I know what the whole thing with Dad, and Taylor… I know what it did to you, Kurt, and I'm sorry… I can see from watching you how much it still hurts." She looked at him regretfully.

He just nodded. After all, what could he say? He'd be lying if he denied how much it hurt to be there, to see Taylor everywhere, to hear even the faint echoes of his father… though he'd tuned most of _those_ out so far.

"But I can also see how happy Jane makes you," Sarah added softly. Kurt had to smile then, because he knew that Sarah was right. He couldn't deny _that_ either. "I'm glad you guys worked it all out," she said, "whatever it was."

"Me, too," he replied, thinking that even though Sarah didn't know the half of it, she could see the important parts, and that finally, none of the rest of it mattered.

Sarah looked at him sadly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to force this trip on you. I really thought it would help."

"I know," he repeated. "Without her here, I don't know… I think it would've been too much. But luckily, it didn't come to that… I hadn't even realized how much I needed her. I'd put so much energy into pushing her away…"

"So I'm doubly glad she's here then," Sarah replied quietly. Kurt just nodded, looking down at Jane fondly. Forty-eight hours ago, back before the party, now felt like several lifetimes ago. He looked into the fire to his left, allowing his mind to wander as he watched the bright orange embers glow and move and change, the fire slowly changing the wood to ash, but giving a spectacular show in the process.

 _Why does it look like that?_ he suddenly heard Taylor ask. For a second he couldn't breathe, and his eyes closed involuntarily at the memory.

 _Like what?_ he asked her in his memory. _That's what fire looks like._

 _But why?_ she asked persistently. She was just barely three, and she never, ever stopped asking him why.

 _That's just how it is,_ he told her patiently. He had always wondered why Sarah had driven him so crazy with her own questions at that age, and yet his patience with Taylor had seemed infinite.

 _Just how it is?_ she'd echoed, trying out the words for herself.

 _Yep, just how it is,_ he'd affirmed.

Later that evening, when Emma Shaw had come to pick Taylor up, Kurt had overheard Taylor say, _I love you mommy, and that's just how it is._ When Emma Shaw had asked Taylor where she'd learned that phrase, she'd grinned and looked over at Kurt, quickly hiding her face against her mom's shoulder as he'd grinned at her.

 _You're so good with her,_ Emma had told him, standing there with Taylor burrowed against her shoulder. _She worships you, you know._

 _She's so sweet,_ he remembered saying, before hearing the sound of his father coming into the house from outside through the back door.

 _Hi, Emma. Hey, Taylor,_ his father had said in greeting, glancing at the Shaws and then walking to the refrigerator.

At the time he'd thought nothing of it, but now Kurt bristled at the memory, wanting to force the man – the _monster_ – out of the room completely, never letting him come close enough to Taylor to even _look_ at her again. Of course, that was impossible. It was a memory. It was done. It had happened… all of it, and nothing he could do would change it.

That may have been the worst part. For most of his life, he had always prided himself on fixing things, on saving people… All because of his relentless determination to do so, stemming from his very first failure. His failure to save Taylor. The fact that no matter what he did, he would never be able to fix it, to atone – he saw this now, after years of trying to save _other_ people to make up for Taylor – it was still eating him up inside, twenty-five years later… It may even have been worse now than ever before, since he'd found out what had actually happened to her.

Sighing, he looked away from the fire, trying to force the memory to fade. Instead, he focused on Jane, sprawled out in front of him, sleeping with her head in his lap. Her right hand still covered his left, holding it against her left arm, and her head had tilted slightly to the left as well, so that her cheek leaned against arm.

No, he couldn't change what had happened in the past any more than she could, but he _could_ do his best to make the present a place where both of them could be happy, despite everything that had come before.

With his right hand, he smoothed her hair, starting from the top of her head just behind her right temple, moving over her head until he came to the pillow and then starting from the top again. At first he didn't even realize that he was doing it, and once he did, it was simply too soothing for him to stop. Besides, he didn't really think she'd want him to, if she woke up.

He heard Sarah murmuring something across the room, and looked up to see Sawyer sitting up and blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Hey, buddy," Kurt said softly.

"Jane fell asleep, too?" Sawyer asked, looking down at the sleeping woman with a smile.

"She sure did," Kurt replied, keeping his voice quiet. "She didn't sleep well last night. We'll have to give Rudolph another chance, maybe later." Sawyer just nodded, getting up from the couch and wandering toward the kitchen.

"Hey mom," Sawyer called just a little too loudly, "can I have a snack?"

Glancing down at Jane, Kurt saw her begin to stir. Sarah had noticed that Sawyer's voice was a little too loud as well, and followed him toward the kitchen, attempting to answer his question while also shushing him.

Jane's eyes blinked open and for a second she struggled to focus, confused as to why she was looking up at Kurt but he seemed to be upside down.

"Hey," she said, her voice slightly raspy.

"Hey, yourself," he replied, "you have a good nap?"

"Mmmm," she replied with a smile, still very drowsy and a little out of it. "Pretty good," she added, and then her smile intensified and her voice dropped to barely a whisper, "but not as good as last night." He watched as her cheeks turned pink, and then she started to backpedal, as if he hadn't been there himself.

"I mean, not that… you know…" she stuttered, her whole face suddenly turning bright red.

"You are _so cute_ when you're embarrassed and awkward," he whispered as he leaned his face down close to hers. They were at opposite angles, since he was peering over her, and it was a little disconcerting. If she was being honest, she wanted nothing more at that moment than to curl up with him, the way they had in the sleeping bag, and to go back to sleep. Then again, she knew that that moment would come later that night, and as much as that was what she _wanted_ , she also felt slightly uneasy about it, for whatever reason. But that was a problem to deal with later.

As she slowly woke up he was coming into sharper focus, and she narrowed her eyes at him slightly. "Are you okay?" she asked.

 _Damn_ , he thought, _why does she have to be so observant?_

She had noticed that he had the shadow of that look on his face again – the one he'd had when he'd been seeing Taylor. He didn't seem to want to tell her about it, or at least he hadn't done so so far, though she wished that he would… not because she was nosy, or because she felt like he owed it to her or anything, but more because she thought that if he would just talk about it, maybe he'd be less haunted by it… And also, because of how much he would have to trust her to talk about Taylor like that. She knew that it was probably too much to hope for that he would trust her like that, after everything…

 _Stop thinking like that,_ she told herself. _He agreed to the deal, after all, and you're here, aren't you? It's not impossible. These things take_ _ **time**_ _. Baby steps._

Lifting her head off of the pillow and turning around so that she could look into her eyes, she sat up slowly. He could tell from the look on her face that she was still waiting for an answer to her question. Smiling sadly, he just nodded before looking away. Pulling herself closer beside him, she reached her left arm around his lower back, and he automatically draped his right arm across her shoulders as her head dropped down to rest on his shoulder. Both of them stared into the fire, and then suddenly, to his dismay, he heard her voice again.

 _It's so pretty,_ Taylor said reverently, staring into the flames. She was a little older than she'd been in his last memory. Maybe four years old?

 _Don't get too close,_ his nine year old self warned her instinctively. _You'll burn yourself._

She'd turned and looked at him with a face full of so much attitude, for a second he'd wanted to burst out laughing – it looked hilarious coming from a girl so little. _Hello! I_ _ **know**_ _that,_ she'd chided him.

Jane was watching in a combination of fascination and dismay as it seemed to be happening again before her eyes. The worst part was that she was powerless to do anything to help, or so she felt.

 _That's right,_ he'd told her, as if he'd suddenly remembered, _you're a big girl now._

 _Almost as big as you! See?_ She'd held up her hand above her head where she knelt beside him, bringing it across to his forehead in a not-even-close-to-even line, attempting to demonstrate that they were the same size.

 _I see,_ he had told her, as seriously as he possibly could, despite how badly he wanted to laugh.

His eyes were closed, his head down, and his breathing was shaky and shallow. Jane withdrew her arm from his back, turned toward him and pushed herself up so that she was kneeling, as she put both arms around his shoulders and held on tight. She didn't need to know what precisely he was remembering to know that it was overwhelming him once again.

Sarah and Sawyer were still nearby, in the kitchen, and it seemed to her that he wouldn't want to be seen as anything but his regular self in front of them, especially Sawyer. She thought desperately, trying to figure out where else they could possibly _go_ that would not hold some sort of whisper, some memory of Taylor. He just needed a break, somewhere to catch his breath, somewhere where he didn't see Taylor. The problem was that she truly was everywhere here. It was to be expected of course, since she'd been such a big part of his life, and Jane now understood even better what a sacrifice he'd made for his sister, coming back here knowing what it would probably do to him.

Then suddenly, it was as if a lightbulb came on in her head. "Hey," she whispered to him, next to his ear the way he liked to whisper to her, "Come with me." She stood up slowly, not wanting to release him, but needing to do so in order to get him to move. A change of scenery would be worth it.

After a moment, he slowly stood up as well, opening his eyes and looking at her questioningly. There was so much raw emotion there, and she silently scolded herself for thinking a few minutes before that he didn't trust her. If that had been the case, there's no way he would have let her see this side of him. She knew all too well what it looked like when his walls were up, after all.

Taking his hand gently in hers, she took a step away from the fire and tugged slightly, urging him to follow her. She looked back at him, her eyes going to his, and her heart ached for him all over again when she saw his expression. It was the closest to desperation she'd ever seen from Kurt Weller. Tugging at his hand, pleading with her eyes for him to follow her, she took a tentative step in the direction of the front hallway, and then another. He did follow her, but she got the feeling that, had she not been holding onto him, he would have stayed right where he was. But that was okay with her. After all, he'd done this for her – rescued her from her own thoughts more times than she could count, even if most of them had been a long time ago – she could do this for him without a second thought.

They were in the front hallway when Sarah rounded the corner behind them, her eyes meeting Jane's questioningly just as she was about to tell Kurt to put his boots on.

"We're just going to get some air for a few minutes," she said quietly, hoping that Sawyer wouldn't overhear and think that they were going back outside to play. Jane hoped that Sarah would understand what she was trying to tell her.

Looking at the two of them, especially Kurt's posture and the fact that he didn't even look up, but had simply let Jane speak for them, Sarah had a pretty good general idea what was going on. _Poor Kurt, the ghosts are just everywhere for him,_ she thought, once again feeling guilty about having made him come there after so many years.

Sarah looked up at Jane and smiled, and Jane just nodded sadly, then looked back at Kurt and whispered something softly to him as Sarah moved back around the corner to the kitchen. Sarah was at least grateful to know that her brother was well taken care of.

Jane had told Kurt that they were going outside for a few minutes, and that he should put on his boots and his jacket. "And no, we're not going to sit in the snow," she told him with a grin in an attempt at humor that was lost on him.

When he slipped his feet into his boots and then stopped, she shook her head sadly and retrieved his jacket from the hook on which it hung nearby, helping him into it and then reaching up to put her palm against his cheek. This seemed to get his attention, and he looked at her sadly for the first time in several minutes. After standing like that for a minute, she withdrew her hand reluctantly, tugging the zipper of his jacket up and standing on her toes to reach up high enough to pull his hat down over his head. Tucking his gloves into his pocket just in case, she quickly put on her own boots, jacket and hat, putting her gloves into her own pocket, then put her hand into the other pocket of his jacket, fishing out the keys to the car.

He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, to which she replied simply, "You'll see." He didn't react beyond that, simply stared at her.

 _Please don't be as close to the breaking point as you look like you are,_ she begged him silently.

The bitter cold met them as soon as she opened the front door, as she beckoned him out after her and then closed the door behind them. She took his hand securely in hers, both to keep the two of them steady of the slippery ground and to keep him moving. She walked the two of them down to the street in front of the house, where he'd parked the SUV the evening before – had it really only been yesterday? – around to the driver's side, since the passenger's side was so tightly parked against the snowbank. The car chirped as she clicked the keyfab, and she opened the door to the backseat.

He didn't even question her, simply climbed in and scooted himself over half-heartedly to the middle. Leaving the door open, she walked to the door at the front and opened it, putting the key in the ignition and turning it to start the car before closing the door again and returning to the backseat, climbing in beside him. She could already feel the cold in her bare fingers, but this time they had the luxury of keeping the heat on. After all, they weren't going to sit out here for a long time. She just needed to give him a little time to calm down. There wasn't really anywhere in the house or even outside the house that was neutral ground, but here in the car, she hoped that just maybe, he wouldn't see Taylor. It was hard for her just to _watch_ him remember the little girl and see how much it hurt him, and she assumed it was a thousand times harder for _him_.

Scooting as close to him as she could, she grasped both of his hands tightly and looked up at him. "So," she began quietly, "this was the only place I could think of that might not have any painful memories."

 _She's simply amazing_ , he thought in awe. He knew that it wasn't hard to see that he was distraught, but the fact that she had thought of one place where he could possibly relax because it _wasn't_ part of his childhood… her thoughtfulness overwhelmed him.

Smiling sadly, he nodded, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers and exhaling loudly. _Breathe_ , he told himself. _Just breathe._

For a minute he seemed to be breathing faster, and she wondered if her well intentioned gesture had somehow gone terribly wrong. However, he seemed to calm down after that, his breathing slowing back to normal. His head remained leaned against hers and he felt his grip on her hands tighten.

"She's just everywhere," he whispered, and her heart broke for him all over again.

"I know," she said, holding on tighter to his hands and leaning against him harder. Really, there was nothing else she could say or do, and that was what was killing her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, shaking his head sadly. "You're the only thing holding me together. _I'm_ the one who's sorry."

"Nope," she said resolutely, releasing her right hand from his with some difficulty, and then bringing her index finger to his lips, "none of that." It was the same thing he'd said to her in the car, what felt like a million years ago, when their extreme proximity in the sleeping bag had triggered a mini-panic attack, leading her to apologize. Now she told him the same thing, meaning them just as sincerely as he had before. "Don't apologize, because you have nothing to be sorry for."

Recognizing his own words being fed back to him, he smiled weakly. Despite how much his heart was aching from thoughts of Taylor, it was simultaneously full because of Jane. He never would have thought that both would be possible at once, and yet… apparently they were.

He wished he could put into words what he felt about her at that moment, but as he let go of the hand that he was holding and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could, making her finger fall from his lips – despite how much he'd liked it there – he hoped that just maybe, she understood. After all, as she returned the hug, he couldn't help but think that she seemed to see exactly what he needed. Maybe it was possible that she _did_ know how he felt.

The bone-crushing hug that he wrapped her in was at once desperate and comforting, and she was relieved to see that he was no longer withdrawn and closed off, as he'd been in the house and when they'd first come outside. That had been the thing that had scared her the most. Kurt was the strongest person she knew, and it was frightening to see such a strong person look broken. Not that he didn't have every reason to be just that here, in this place. All she'd been able to think was that she had _had_ to help him fight it. After all, he'd spent so much time fighting for her.

 _Maybe not as much as he should have, of course._

The thought had made it past her filter before she'd had a chance to stop it, and she didn't so much flinch as she did acknowledge it and then push it away.

 _No, we aren't going there anymore,_ she told herself simply, and just like that, the thought bounced off of her newly formed mental armor and it was gone. She was going to be okay. They both were, and she was not going to accept any other outcome.

"I just keep hearing her voice in my head," he said quietly. "Silly things, nothing important, just… conversations. Things I never even knew that I remembered. I don't think I've thought of them since they happened, or maybe… at least not since I was last here. It's like this place tapped my brain back into some sort of database and now I can't _stop_ remembering. The longer we're here, the more it happens."

She nodded, relaxing her arms but keeping them wrapped around him. He did the same, and she rested her head against his shoulder as he looked down at her, almost seeming surprised to find her there, even though he'd been the one to pull her closer.

"You blocked it out completely for a long time," she said slowly, "because it hurt so much. And I know that it still does, but now that you know…" she hesitated, trying to choose her words carefully, "…well, probably as much as you're ever going to know about what happened… _maybe_ you can… find closure. Maybe that will let you remember her, let you stop blocking out the memories." She stopped talking and picked up her head so that she could lean back and look at him, hoping that she hadn't gone too far already.

The look on his face told her that he was considering what she'd said, that it wasn't as crazy as she'd suddenly feared, hadn't made him angry or anguished or anything else that she so wanted to avoid. So she added the one other thing that she had been thinking, but was still a little bit reluctant to suggest. "Maybe if you stop fighting the memories, maybe they won't hurt as much." She wasn't a psychologist, of course, and it was just an idea…

She could be right, he realized. He hadn't let himself think about any of his specific memories of Taylor for so very long, and now he was overwhelmed by them. But maybe it wasn't so much that he'd been plugged into a database, as he'd suggested. Maybe it was simply the flood of memories of five much too short and yet very full years with this girl who had been like family to him, who for whatever reason had elevated him to superhero status. He was still trying to let go of the anger he felt with his father over what he had taken away, and he knew that that would take a long time, but maybe somehow he could figure out a way to keep these precious memories of Taylor that he'd fought so desperately _not_ to have because they'd hurt so much. Maybe he could make peace with that part of his past and remember her fondly, even if it still made him sad.

 _I'm not really one to talk about not fighting memories_ , Jane thought as she watched him process what she'd said, suddenly seeing the irony of her words. She'd been horrified by so many of her own memories, after all, and accepting them, accepting the person that she'd been, had been a very hard fight. But then again, maybe that just made her _more_ qualified to give that kind of advice, not less.

"Maybe," he whispered, setting his forehead down against the top of her head and inhaling the scent of her shampoo. All at once he felt calm, a calm that he hadn't felt in a very long time, maybe longer than he could remember, even the times that he'd been with Jane and _thought_ he'd been at peace. He breathed deeply, wondering how he could possibly ever thank her enough for what she had done for him, for being there. Hell, he couldn't even put it into words in his head, much less repay her.

They sat there like that for a while longer, before Jane reluctantly shifted, attempting to get him to lift his head and look at her. "We should turn the car off and go inside," she said, though she wished that they could stay right where they were indefinitely. "It's probably not a good idea to use all our gas idling." While he knew that what she said was absolutely true, he was wishing the same thing that she was at that moment.

"I know, but I wish we didn't have to," he replied. "I'd rather stay right here with you, just like this."

"Me too," she said softly, smiling warmly at him. "Do you feel any better?"

"More than I can even put into words," he told her, putting one hand up to her cheek and moving his thumb slowly across it. "Thank you."

She bit her lip as her breath caught in her throat then, relieved that she'd managed to help after all. For a few seconds they just stared at each other, smiling.

"But before we go inside…" he said, leaving off the rest of his sentence. It was unnecessary anyway, as he leaned down until their faces were inches apart, where he paused, slowly leaning his nose against the bridge of hers, then leaning back ever so slightly, so that his nose _almost_ lifted away from her skin before moving his face slowly, so that the tip of his nose moved slowly from the bridge of hers, back up to the middle of her forehead, so slightly that it almost wasn't touching her skin. Except that it was, and once again, there was a trail of sparks left along the path his nose had taken.

Pausing then, he leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose gently. Still moving slowly, he then moved his face down until it was even with hers, where he paused again. She couldn't help but smile at him, because, well, how could she?

He was looking at her steadily from only inches away when she leaned forward and kissed _him_ , both of them smiling so wide that they could feel it even with their lips finally made contact, their eyes closing. When they stopped for air a few minutes later, their eyes fluttered open at almost the same second, revealing that they both still had the same smiles on their faces as they had when they'd started, which only made them smile harder – which they would have thought was impossible.

"Okay?" she asked, reaching for the door handle but not yet moving away from him.

"Right behind you," he replied, and she was momentarily caught off guard by the way he was looking at her. He was smiling, yes, but it wasn't just that. The look in his eyes… it reminded her of the way he'd looked at her back at the beginning, when he'd thought she was Taylor, except that now it was even more intense. She simply didn't _want_ to look away.

"Good," she said, momentarily wishing once again that they could just stay where they were, in their own little bubble. "Because I think you promised to make dinner, didn't you? You probably need to start thinking about that soon."

He chuckled at her, shaking his head. "I think you're right… so get moving!" he laughed. The tension in the air was gone, and it had been replaced by something like euphoria.

She climbed out of the car, opening the front door once again and taking the key out of the ignition, then handing the keys back to Kurt, who just shrugged. "You can keep them in your pocket if you want. It's not as though I'm going anywhere without you." That had been a given, of course, but it still made her smile to hear him say it. Closing up the car and clicking the keyfab to lock the doors, then putting the keys in her pocket, she turned and found Kurt's hand as they walked back up the driveway.

At the door, he tugged on her hand, pulling her to a stop before either of them reached for the doorknob. He leaned down and she thought that he was going to kiss her again, but instead he wrapped his arms around her tightly once more, then kissed her forehead. "Thank you," he mumbled against her skin, "again."

"Of course," she whispered. "Always."

They stayed there, holding on tightly to each other, for another minute before leaning back reluctantly, smiling at each other.

"Let go get warmed up again," he said. "Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?" he asked as he opened the door.

"Ummm… yes," she replied. "One of those."

He shook his head at her in amusement as he closed the door behind them, grateful to be back inside where it was warm. Hoping that Jane was right – that if he didn't fight the memories, maybe they wouldn't hurt so much – he knew that one way or another, he'd be figuring it out soon. It wasn't going to be easy, no matter what happened, but that was okay, though, because _easy_ wasn't something that ever seemed to happen to him. He was used to that. Besides, if it – _his life_ – had been easy, he wouldn't be where he was just then, and at that moment, standing beside Jane, he knew that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.


	26. Trading Off

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: Thank you to everyone who faithfully leaves reviews on this story. I feel like you guys have been even more generous with your kind words in the past few chapters, and it means a lot. I'm glad to know that you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it!_

They came back inside quietly, both bracing for any sudden impact, any onslaught of memories – especially Kurt. They'd taken off their boots and hats and hung up their jackets when Jane turned around to see him just standing with his back to the front door, looking down the hall into the house toward the living area. He wasn't staring exactly, but he was just very… _still_. Walking up to him slowly, she kept her eyes on his. His eyes, on the other hand, were far away.

"She had just learned to tie her shoes," he said in a whisper. "She used to sit on the bottom step and concentrate so hard on it… I taught her how," he said, smiling sadly at, Jane now realized, the bottom step of the staircase behind her.

Jane turned to look at the step, as if she might see Taylor there herself, and then looked back at Kurt with a sad smile that matched his. She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently, not saying a word. This was her time to listen.

"The biggest problem she had with tying her shoes was her hair," he said, as a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a choked sob escaped from him. "It was always falling in her face while she had her hands full of shoelaces. I tried to get her to push it behind her ears before she started, but she never seemed to remember. So it was easier just to hold her hair back for her until she was done…"

He sighed then, seeming to come out of his trance, and he finally looked down at Jane, attempting a smile that he obviously didn't feel. Squeezing his hand again, she stood up on her toes to reach up and kiss him gently on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Looking at her in confusion, he asked, "For what?"

"For trusting me enough to tell me about her," she replied, keeping her eyes on his.

"Of course I—" he started, the words already out before he realized that between them, trust was no longer taken for granted. It was a huge part of what had been damaged between them, what had seemed irreparable on both ends. Once again, he had forgotten that this new phase of their relationship was less than two days old – it was easy to forget, since in some ways it felt as though nothing had ever come between them. Except that many, many things had. Big things.

"Jane," he began again, suddenly dismayed at the realization of what she may or may not have been thinking as she had watched him remembering Taylor but, up to this point, not talking about it – that he didn't trust her. "You know that I… We're past that, right? I know that it's not as simple as it sounds, but…" He stopped and took a breath, hoping that he could convince his words to come out in an order that would make sense. "I want to…"

 _Why is my brain not working?_ he wondered, now extremely frustrated.

Her left hand was now on his right arm. "It's okay," she was saying soothingly. "It's like you said in there somewhere… Trust isn't as simple as it sounds. We have a lot of… baggage. A lot of stuff to work through. It'll come."

Somehow, even though she felt safe with him, and she could see that her presence soothed him, for some reason it seemed inconceivable to her that he would trust her completely. Not yet, of course, and – sadly – maybe not ever. It was just something that she had to accept. She reasoned that maybe she felt this so acutely because it was so important to her, and that if he _were_ to trust her like that, the way he once had… well, it was like everything else, really. She already knew how much it would hurt to lose that trust, and so in a way, having his trust terrified her at the same time as she craved it more than anything.

 _Someday_ , she thought sadly, attempting to downplay in her head just how desperately she wanted his trust. It was simply something that her mind would not accept – that he would trust her completely, despite the fact that he had just shared a memory of Taylor with her. _**I**_ _wouldn't trust me_ , she thought sadly.

"We do have a lot of baggage," he said slowly, because she wasn't wrong about that. There were terrible things in their pasts, and they would leave scars – psychological ones, as opposed to her lingering physical ones – for a while at least, though he had faith that they would fade. Suddenly, looking at her, he remembered that while this trip was undeniably hard for him, somewhere along the line he'd lost sight of the fact that it wasn't all about him. Despite the fact that she'd never been there before, the connection with Taylor had meant that there were ghosts of a different kind here for her – maybe an even harder kind to deal with… because how do you even begin to wrap your mind around what she was going through?

He looked into her eyes, _really_ looked, for the first time in a while, and saw that below the determination that she'd been displaying, the desire to be there for _him_ , there was a certain amount of insecurity. That made sense, of course, because after all, she had two pasts, and yet in another way, she had none at all.

"But that doesn't mean that I don't trust you, Jane. Okay? I know that the past few days have been…" He looked around for a second, searching for the right word. "Intense." They both smiled at the understatement of the word. Somehow even _intense_ didn't seem to cover it. "And I know that before that…" He sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

 _How was it possible that it all seemed so crystal clear now, but that he hadn't been able to see it for_ _ **months**_ _? How had he allowed it to go that far?_

The guilt was back in full force. She hadn't deserved the treatment she'd received, from the CIA _or_ from the FBI. It was a wonder that she was worried about _him_ trusting _her_ when it should be the other way around. He felt the need to prove himself trustworthy to her, more now than ever. But that look in her eyes just then, when she'd thanked him for trusting her… She'd looked… _surprised._ He hated that she hadn't expected him to trust her. After everything, she didn't deserve to feel that way.

He sighed heavily, feeling that somehow despite his best efforts, he was failing her without even having realized it until that moment. No other words would come to him just then, so he simply wound his arms around her again, despite the fact that it hadn't even been five minutes since the last time he'd done the same thing, just outside the door.

 _There is no such thing as too much of this,_ he reminded himself. _Besides, we both have a lifetime of heartache to make up for. She couldn't remember most of her past, but the bits and pieces she could were enough to tell him that she was just as much in need of this as he was._

He had run out of words, that much was obvious. She'd been doing so well that day, she'd told herself, taking a turn being the strong one because he so clearly needed her to be, and her own feelings of insecurity had crept back up on her out of nowhere. It wasn't self-pity or any conscious thought, she simply couldn't conceive of the possibility that she deserved to be trusted. Not after the terrible things she'd done and despite the deal they'd made in the car the day before.

"We'll work thought whatever we need to work through," he mumbled against her cheek, "but I trust you _now._ And I want you to know that, if you didn't already."

Her stomach flip-flopped and her breath caught inside her, and for a second she couldn't get it to come out. There's something to be said for hearing the words that you so desperately want to hear that you're actually afraid to hear them, and this was exactly what was happening. In her head, there was a tug of war between wanting to believe that he trusted her, and being terrified of these words because of how much it had hurt when the trust – along with everything else – had been taken away the first time. She knew that she couldn't go through that again.

He felt her shudder against him, and heard the sound of a choked sob that went with it, and he held on tightly with his left hand across the shoulders of the sweatshirt he had given her to wear while rubbing his right in slow swirling motions across the middle of her back. It was all she could do to concentrate on breathing in and out, her brain temporarily unable to process anything except the fact that he was holding onto her. At that moment, that was all she needed.

As her breathing came back to normal, he felt the tension in her lessen and felt her relax against him. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?" he whispered against her cheek, not moving his face from where it had rested against her temple for the past few minutes. She nodded, keeping her cheek pressed against his as well.

"Yeah," she exhaled, feeling exhausted even though she'd recently had a nap.

Drawing back slowly, he looked into her eyes in an attempt to determine if she was okay. He didn't ask the question out loud, but his eyes did it for him. Hers answered for her as she smiled tiredly back up at him. She was okay, her eyes told him, just overwhelmed, and he smiled in satisfaction.

"What do you say," he said slowly, his hands now resting loosely on her back, but closer to her waist, "if we go and have something warm to drink, and then we challenge Sarah and Sawyer to that epic snowball fight that I promised him earlier? And by then it'll be time to make dinner."

Smiling at him happily, she replied, "You had me at 'we.'"

"Wait, is that a _Jerry Maguire_ reference? Have you _seen_ that movie?" he asked, raising his eyebrows with a confused smile.

"Well, no, I heard someone use it – Patterson, I think, - and she explained it to me…" she admitted.

"We can watch it sometime, if you want," he offered a little bit shyly.

"I'd like that," she said awkwardly, looking away and then back at him slowly. _Why do I suddenly feel like I can't look at him?_ she wondered.

"So… at _we_ , huh?" he asked, returning to the other part of her statement that he was curious about, not as a pop culture reference but for the content of what she'd said. "That's all you need? Just an… _us_?"

She knew that he was teasing her a little bit, and she felt herself blush. "Ugh, I guess I need to be careful what I say, because your ego's already big enough, isn't it? And besides, I mean, I don't want you to get the wrong idea… There _are_ limits…" He started laughing so hard then that she didn't bother to continue. _He really was too much sometimes_ …

It had been so much fun to make her flustered, but he simply hadn't been able to keep a straight face any longer.

When they both stopped laughing, she cleared her throat and said, "But, um, yeah… that's enough for me." Her tone was slightly more serious now as she added, "Just an _us_." Glancing at the floor and back up again, her voice was almost a whisper. "It's more than I… expected." She had been about to say that it was more than she _deserved,_ but she knew that he would have objected to that. Besides, it _was_ also more than she'd expected.

Reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he couldn't help but smile at her admission. "That makes two of us," he said, curling his fingers around from behind her ear and dragging them gently across her skin to her cheek. He felt her leaning into the touch of his fingers, and watched her smile with so much emotion in her eyes that they fell closed. His fingers moved in tiny circles on her cheek for a few minutes until his hand finally dropped slowly to her shoulder.

"Come on," he told her gently, tugging her around to face into the house, then taking a step forward and putting his right arm over her shoulders to move her along with him. "Let's go get something to drink. You still didn't tell me what you wanted."

And just like that, as she walked with him, her head settling against his shoulder, everything was okay again.

" _ **I**_ think you feel like hot chocolate right now… what do _you_ think?" he asked, turning toward her but, because her head was on his shoulder and he therefore couldn't see her face, simply leaned his face into her hair for a second before looking back up at where they were going.

"I think you know me pretty well," she replied. Picking up her head from his shoulder but still walking with their arms across each other's backs, they walked into the kitchen together.

Sarah looked up from her book where she sat on the floor by the fireplace, apparently having been inspired by Jane and Kurt sitting there earlier. She watched with a smile as Kurt leaned away from Jane only far enough to turn the dial for the burner that would heat up the water in the kettle, then leaned back into her, close enough to whisper something beside her ear and then gently kissing her temple. He appeared to be doing a lot better with whatever had been bothering him when they'd gone outside a little while ago, and once again she felt immense gratitude toward Jane.

Sarah was still smiling at him when they turned slightly and Kurt caught sight of her watching them. He grinned with what looked like slight embarrassment, but mostly happiness.

"So we were thinking," Kurt said to her as they walked slowly in her direction, still not letting go of each other. "That we're going to warm up a little, and then after that… well, I promised Sawyer a big snowball fight, since he built us those great walls. And we were thinking that you should be part of it," he told her. "And then after that, I'll make dinner."

Rolling her eyes at him, Sarah grinned. This sounded very much like something her brother and her son would decide they wanted more than anything. And really, after she'd convinced Kurt to come here, to this place that was so difficult for him to be, how could she deny him something so simple? Not to mention how happy it would make Sawyer… Even though she wasn't exactly the snowball fight type, she replied, after an eye roll and a groan, "I only do these things for you and Sawyer, you know."

"That's one of the reasons we love you," Kurt offered, which made his sister smile.

"I'm assuming that you're not ready yet, so just tell me when you _are,_ and I'll get Sawyer. If I tell him now, you won't get a second of peace until you say you _are_ ready," Sarah told them.

"Where _is_ Sawyer?" Jane asked curiously.

"Disappeared into his – er, _my old_ room," Sarah replied. "He does that sometimes now… now that he _has_ a room to disappear into." She smiled knowingly at Kurt, though there was a touch of sadness there as well. She'd loved staying with him in New York, even though she and Sawyer had had to share Kurt's spare room. Where they lived in Portland now was nice, and they had their own spaces, but she missed being in the same city with her brother. Some of the time, she even missed being in the same apartment as him.

Jane and Kurt both nodded. "I can't believe he's gotten that old," Kurt said. "I remember when I couldn't get him to stop following me around."

"Well to be fair, that almost describes his behavior anytime you're around, even now, most of the time," Sarah grinned. "He has always loved his uncle Kurt."

"You know what I mean," Kurt retorted, shaking his head.

"He _is_ getting big," Sarah said with a sigh. "Much too fast for my taste."

The kettle began whistling behind them just then, and Jane and Kurt both turned back towards it, still not releasing their arms from each other's backs, simply maneuvering carefully to turn and walk back towards the stove. Kurt reached out and turned the dial back to off, picking up the kettle and pulling the handle up to open the stopper at the end of the spout, thus eliminating the high pitched noise that it was making as the steam escaped quickly into the air.

Opening the cupboard just in front of them, Kurt took down two mugs, one at a time with his one free hand, setting them side by side. The box of hot chocolate mix had been conveniently left on the counter in front of where they stood, and he removed two envelopes of powder from the box. Then, however, came the challenge, because he couldn't open the envelopes with one hand… at least, not easily.

Watching him mentally try to calculate his next move, Jane started to reach for one of the envelopes with _her_ free hand. "Need a hand?" she asked with a smile, trying to anticipate how he was going to solve the problem – since he showed no sign of removing his arm from her back. This, of course, was completely okay with her.

"Nope, I think I've got it," he told her, to her surprise. Putting one envelope down on the counter, he held the other and then turned toward her, leaning in closer to her and then putting his other arm around her back so that he now had two hands to carefully rip the envelope of hot chocolate powder, albeit behind her back, as he watched carefully from over her shoulder. The trick came when he had finished opening the first envelope and had to release one of his arms from around her to put the small packet down and pick up the other one. He did so reluctantly, but within a few short seconds he was once again holding onto her with the excuse of opening the packet.

Once it was open, he reached out slowly with his right hand toward the counter to his right to put it down, careful not to let it spill, but instead of turning back to the counter and releasing her, he did the opposite. Stepping away from the counter and shifting slightly, turning her almost as if they were dancing until her back was against the counter, he pulled his arms around her again. She certainly had no objection, however, the hot chocolate that they allegedly wanted in order to warm up wasn't going to make itself, sadly.

"I think you got distracted," she whispered beside his ear.

"You distracted me," he whispered back. "It's your fault."

Chuckling happily, she let her hands drop slowly from his back and then turned around inside the circle of his arms, which loosened as she moved, until she was facing the counter. He was now standing behind her, peeking over her shoulder curiously with his hands at his sides. He'd liked it better when his arms were around her but when they were standing this way… he wasn't sure where to hold on.

 _What are you, in high school again?_ the voice in his head asked him teasingly.

He continued to watch from over her shoulder as she dumped the contents of each of the packets into one of the mugs, then took the kettle from the stove and filled each with water. Steam rose from them as she opened the drawer in front of them in search of a spoon to use to stir, but found that it wasn't the silverware drawer.

"Silverware?" she asked, turning her head to ask him over her shoulder, where his head sat close behind her.

"Left side of the stove," he murmured, not leaning back even though he was clearly invading her personal space. Why would he move? He was enjoying being exactly where he was.

She shook her head at his silliness, tilting her face to the side just a little in order to lean her cheek against his, perfectly happy to stay still for a moment.

After a minute, however, she had to move, and she reluctantly leaned back, forcing herself to break the connection between their cheeks. She walked to the drawer on the left side of the stove, taking out a spoon and then stepping back over to their hot chocolate, shaking her head at him. He was standing just beside her now, leaning his side against the counter and watching her carefully from only a few inches away.

She was surprised at how much she already missed the contact with him since she'd stepped back from him about a minute before. _He's not going anywhere,_ she reminded herself. _He's right in front of you._

They took their hot chocolate to the couch, and had just settled in so that they leaned gently against each other when they looked up to see Sarah watching them with a sappy grin on her face. She just shook her head, turning her book over to lay it on the floor and getting up to walk toward the kitchen. They didn't think anything of it until she was walking back toward them less than a minute later holding a bag of mini-marshmallows.

"You guys forgot the best part, according to Sawyer," she said, holding out a handful over Jane's mug. Jane held it still obligingly, and Sarah dropped the small treats in carefully, repeating the process for Kurt.

"Thanks, mom," Kurt said teasingly, grinning at his sister.

"Thank you, Sarah," Jane added, looking up at her with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Seriously, you guys are too cute," Sarah said, walking back toward the kitchen and shaking her head. "You're killing me!" She set the marshmallows down on the counter and headed toward the front of the house, saying casually over her shoulder, "I'm going to see what my darling little boy is up to. Let us know when you're ready to go back outside."

Once Sarah had rounded the corner out of sight, Kurt clinked his mug carefully against Jane's, which made her smile.

"I think we drove her away with our cuteness," he said quietly. He wasn't quite sure why he was whispering, except maybe that it seemed more likely that she would stay closer to him if he spoke quietly, for some reason.

She chuckled, taking another sip and enjoying the moment of peace for both of them. They had been few and far between in this house.

Then suddenly, it was as if at that same second, another memory hit him. He glanced up past her, into the kitchen, staring at the table. When she immediately felt him tense up beside her, she looked up at his face. Sure enough, he had that faraway look again, the one that told her that he was remembering something. She waited patiently, watching him carefully.

He held his hot chocolate in his hands carefully, looking past her into the kitchen. As he stared at the kitchen table, it was as if five year old Taylor and his ten year old self suddenly appeared there before his eyes.

 _How many marshmallows do you have?_ she asked, standing up to try to look into the mug in front of him.

 _I don't know,_ he replied. _I didn't count them._

 _I'll count them!_ she'd announced happily. _One, two, three…_ She'd kept going until she got to sixteen. _Wow,_ she'd said in awe, _that's a_ _ **lot**_ _. How many do I have, anyway?_

He watched in silence, once again feeling the bottom falling out of his stomach in the present time, as he had during past memories of her.

 _I have thirteen. So you have…_ She'd thought for a minute, then continued. … _three more than me._

 _Very good math,_ he'd told her. _But we can't have that._ With that, he'd picked up five marshmallows in his spoon and plopped them carefully into her mug. She'd looked up at him in such delight that he'd have thought he'd given her the thing she wanted most in the entire world, and not just five already melting marshmallows.

 _Now how many do you have?_ he'd asked her, and she'd dutifully counted from one all the way up to eighteen. While she did that, he proceeded to eat all of the marshmallows in his mug, spooning them into his mouth in groups of three or four until very quickly, only the liquid remained. When she'd looked into his cup again, she'd seemed shocked that he didn't have _any_ marshmallows left.

 _Hey! Where'd your marshmallows go?_ she'd asked in alarm.

 _I ate them,_ he'd grinned, wondering what she'd say.

 _Oh,_ she said, her face serious as she was clearly thinking hard. Then, looking up at ten year old Kurt so earnestly that watching the exchange threatened to break the heart of the Kurt Weller who sat beside Jane on the couch all over again, she asked, _Do you want some of mine?_

 _No, Taylor_ , he'd said softly, _you eat them._

She'd looked at him skeptically, and asked, Are you _sure_?

 _I'm sure,_ he'd assured her, and she'd slowly picked up her mug to drink, leaving a line of marshmallow foam on her face above her lip when she finally put her cup back down again. The grin on her face was… everything.

Jane was afraid to move, for fear of interrupting whatever was happening in his head. She did, however, transfer her mug to her left hand, then reach her right hand across to where _his_ right hand was wrapped around his mug, pressing hers around it on top of his.

After it had been long enough that Jane had wondered if he was going to tell her what was going on in his head, or if he was going to hold it in, he finally spoke. "I remember sitting at that table across from…" His voice caught on her name for a second, but he continued. "…Taylor… and having hot chocolate," he said quietly. "She was five, and I was ten. She was counting the marshmallows we each had. I had sixteen and she had thirteen. She figured out that I had three more than I did. So… I took my spoon and I gave her five of mine."

Jane couldn't help but smile. Even at ten years old, that sounded so very much like something that the Kurt she knew would have done.

"While she was counting hers again, I ate all of mine. She looked back in my cup to count mine again, and she saw asked me where they went." There was a sad smile on his face as he remembered. "I told her that I ate them already, and she…" He paused, taking a deep breath to try to regain control of his emotions. Otherwise, he was pretty sure, he wasn't going to be able to finish – and he _wanted_ to tell Jane what he'd seen.

"…She asked me if I wanted some of hers, and when I told her no, she should eat them, she asked me if I was sure," he finished in a whisper. Jane squeezed her hand over his, wishing there was something more that she could do for him. Beside her, he let out a long, deep breath, and as she watched, the expression on his face changed. He still looked sad, but he didn't appear to be in _pain_ any longer at least.

As she watched him, he turned and looked down at her, smiling sadly, but maybe somehow with just a tiny bit less sadness than the previous time – or maybe she was just imagining it. Then just like that, he leaned down just enough to press his forehead against her head, just past her hairline, so that his nose pressed into her forehead. In response, she leaned into him, their faces pressing harder against each other. There was something about the pressure with which they leaned against each other just then that matched the intensity that they felt between them. There was no need to verbalize it, it was simply a given between the two.

Each of them meant the words in different ways, but the unspoken message was clear, and it was the same. Simply, _I'm here_.

They sat that way for quite a while, until the hot chocolate was no longer hot so much as warm, and they each reluctantly lifted their head from the other's, Jane moving her hand back to her own mug so that they could both drink. They did so in silence for a few minutes before Jane spoke.

"You don't have to tell me, you know," she said quietly. "About what you remember… about her. I don't want you to feel like you have to." She held her mug between her hands in her lap, her legs crossed in front of her. He couldn't help but think that she suddenly looked… Apologetic? Nervous? He couldn't quite tell, maybe because she suddenly didn't seem to want to meet his eyes.

"I know I don't have to," he said calmly. "But I want to." It was only then that she turned to look at him, and he saw surprise in her face, and relief, too.

"I just didn't want you to feel like I _expected_ you to tell me," she said, looking and sounding relieved, but then starting to shake her head. "After all, I don't really de—"

She stopped herself mid-sentence, freezing in place as she inhaled a shaky breath, biting her lip. Without realizing it, she closed her eyes tightly, and then suddenly all she could see was herself – well, Remi – with Oscar that day in the snow at the memorial service – _Taylor's_ memorial service… watching Kurt and _assessing his vulnerability._ Or _making sure he was still connected to Taylor_ or whatever they were calling it. It didn't matter what they had called it. However you painted it, it had been cruel manipulation of Kurt's very real vulnerability on the subject of this little girl, now even more painfully real to Jane than ever before. The little girl who Kurt's own father had _killed_. Thinking about it again now, she felt sick.

 _I don't deserve to have him confide in me. I don't deserve to hear these things, after—_

"Jane." His voice cut through her thoughts, which had just begun to spiral out of her control, and his left hand landed on her right knee. He leaned down and put his now empty mug on the floor to his right, and then leaned back across his body and took her mug from her lap with this right hand, finding that he had to pry it out of an unexpectedly strong grasp. When he finally got it away from her, he set her mug down beside his, and then returned his attention to her. She'd clamped her hands together, and her eyes were still closed.

 _It's funny,_ he thought, _wasn't she just comforting_ _ **me**_ _less than ten minutes ago? Maybe five?_

When his hand landed on her knee, she felt the spiral of panic come to a stop, but that didn't mean that she was _calm_. Anything but. She'd just become aware of him there beside her once again, so that was a start, but she couldn't get her breathing under control and her heart was racing. She was trying to clear her mind, to think of nothing, hoping that the feeling would go away – when she felt him pulling the mug out of her hands. She hadn't even realized that her hands were clamped so tightly around it, and she was just as surprised as he was when he had trouble taking it from her. He finally did, however, and she felt him lean away from her, then toward her again a few seconds later.

She heard him sigh, but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes and look up at him. "Breathe," she heard him say, and felt the hand on her knee squeeze gently. "It's okay. Just… breathe." Nodding without opening her eyes, she tried her best to let his voice calm her down.

Hesitating for a minute, he scooted closer to her, lifting her right knee slightly to make room, and then, when she seemed willing to let him move her leg, and seemed to be starting to uncross her legs altogether anyway, he slipped his right arm under her knees, taking advantage of the fact that she was changing position and draping her knees over his lap. She sat stiffly for a minute, but he stretched his left arm out so that it fell part way across her shoulders as she now leaned against the back of the couch with her right shoulder, his right hand resting on her knees. Little by little, he felt her relax, leaning against him more and more and letting her legs relax against his.

"It's really something else, the way we keep trading off," he said, trying to keep his tone as soothing as possible. "If we ever break down at the same time… we might have a problem." She chuckled despite herself then, leaning down to put her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah," she agreed tiredly, taking a deep breath.

"You're not her, Jane," he said simply. He heard the sharp intake of breath and he knew that he'd been right about what was bothering her. "And you have to stop carrying around guilt that isn't yours. I know that it isn't easy…" He stopped and tugged her closer to him, and this time she leaned into his side willingly, though her eyes were still closed. "…But I'm just going to keep reminding you until it sinks in. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, nodding her head against him.

"It's only fair that you let me help you," he told her, "after everything you've done for me." She finally opened her eyes then, looking up at him uncertainly.

She needed to say something… she knew that she needed to say _something_. But what? How could she possibly put any of it into words? How could she tell him something that she couldn't even articulate to herself in her own head?

The look in her eyes told him that that there was a lot that she wanted to say, but he took her silence to mean that it was all stuck inside her somewhere. That happened to him enough that it wasn't a surprise when it happened to her. Looking into her eyes, however, he had a pretty good sense of what she wanted to say but couldn't. After all, they had a lot in common, right down to the way they felt. It wasn't exactly the same, no, but just then they both felt broken, and they both felt lost, among a thousand other things. They both also felt calmed by the presence of the other.

She leaned forward then, pushing her head against his chest as he put his arms around her at the slightly awkward angle at which they now found themselves. Finally, she felt herself breathing normally again.

It seemed to him like a good time to change the subject. "You know that Sarah and Sawyer are never going to let us be on the same team for the snowball fight, right? After all, the two of us are the ones with all of the training," he reasoned.

"Yeah, if wouldn't be smart to let us team up," she said, feeling herself smile for the first time in a little while, even if it was a little bit weakly. "We always did make a great team." He couldn't help but smile then, knowing that she wasn't talking about snowballs fights, but just them as a team in general.

"Are you up for it?" he asked her, leaning back to look in her eyes seriously.

She looked back at him for a minute to assure him that she was alright, her smile slowly growing. "Absolutely," she told him. "I look forward to beating your team, you and whoever else is on it."

His mouth curved into a smile then. "Oh, so that's how it is," he said slowly, glad to see Jane acting more like herself.

"You're going to lose, Weller," she told him confidently.

"We'll see about that," he replied. Really, neither of them cared about any possible outcome of the snowball fight, it was just fun to talk trash to each other. "Shall we go and tell Sarah and Sawyer that it's time for the big showdown?"

"No time like the present," she said. Then, glancing at the way they were sitting, she added, "Though I have to say, I'm also pretty comfortable where I am…"

"Oh yeah?" he asked interestedly, leaning just a little closer to her and raising his eyebrows playfully.

"Well, you know, it's not exactly the closest we've been to each other on this trip. After the drive here… everything feels far away," she said, only truly realizing what she'd said after she'd said it, glancing away for a second and then looking back at him with an embarrassed grin. "I just… It's like we said before… it seems like it should be awkward… _this_ … but really, it's just not."

He nodded in agreement, thinking that she'd summed things up perfectly. "Lucky us," he said.

"However, you're not going to feel so lucky when you get hammered with snowballs," she told him, at which he could only laugh, pull her tighter, and then release her so that they could stand up.

"Speaking of which… That's enough of the trash talking, missy," he told her. "Let go gather the other players so that he can settle this once and for all."

It took very little prodding on their part to get Sarah and Sawyer to come downstairs to get ready for the snowball fight, and long afterward, the four of them were bundled up and hustling into the backyard, Sarah and Kurt taking on Jane and Sawyer. Kurt tried not to be too hurt that Sawyer had chosen Jane's team over his when it was time to choose, but then again, he told himself, _he_ would rather have been on Jane's team too, so he could understand.

The air was full of puffs of powdery snow flying back and forth, every one of them seeming to explode in a cloud of white on impact, whether that impact was with a person or just the snow walls that Sawyer, Jane and Kurt had built earlier. Jane and Sawyer were arguably winning, though there were no clear rules about how a "winner" might be declared, with Sawyer mainly making the snowballs and Jane hitting her marks each time with unsurprising accuracy. So far she'd gotten Sarah in the shoulder and the shin and Kurt in both knees and in the upper arm. Kurt had managed to hit Sawyer, but hadn't hit Jane a single time.

They continuously jumped out at each other to shoot their snowballs, becoming more and more daring as time went on, quickly ducking for cover again as soon as they'd had a chance to shoot. Kurt only got quick glimpses of Jane, but from what little he could see of her, she looked happy. Thankfully, for once his mind stayed firmly planted in the present.

The teams were quickly wearing each other out, thanks to the cold weather and the wind that kept blowing the snow back into their faces. There was a great deal of shrieking laughter and despite the temperature, everyone enjoyed themselves immensely.

By the time they'd declared that they'd all had enough, with both sides claiming themselves victorious, it was starting to snow again. No new flakes had fallen since late afternoon on the day before – the day they had _arrived_ , if it was possible that that was true. It certainly didn't seem like it had been only the previous night that they'd gotten there, and yet… it was still Christmas Day, and Jane and Kurt had pulled up to the house late in the evening on Christmas Eve. Despite how it felt, they hadn't even been there for twenty-four hours yet.

In any case, the twenty-four hour reprieve they'd received from the severe winter weather appeared to be over. They headed back around the house to the front door, noticing for the first time that the sky overhead looked somewhat ominous. The wind was blowing harder than ever and the snow had quickly begun falling in some of the largest flakes that Jane had ever seen.

Jane and Kurt fell behind Sarah and Sawyer, as Jane stopped and simply stared up into the sky in wonder. Kurt watched as fat snowflakes landed on Jane's face, beginning to melt immediately, while she stood without moving.

"You have to catch them on your tongue," he said from beside her. "That's a pretty common thing for kids to try to do." Without hesitation, she opened her mouth wide, her tongue stuck out as far as it would go, and in seconds she had accomplished her new goal, as quite a few snowflakes landed in her mouth. She closed it again, grinning.

"That feels weird," she told him happily.

"Look at this," he said, showing her where individual snowflakes were landing against the black of his jacket. "You can see the big ones pretty well against dark colors… every snowflake is unique."

"Wow," she said, staring in awe as the snowflakes slowly melted against his jacket and were replaced by new ones. "They're beautiful."

"They are," he agreed. And then, before he even had time to think about it, he added, "So are you."

Jane smiled up at him in surprise as she swore that Kurt had suddenly turned pink with embarrassment, on top of the pink from the cold that she had already seen in his cheeks. She noticed that he looked almost as surprised as she felt.

He didn't know where the words had come from. She absolutely _was_ beautiful, so he didn't regret saying them, it was just that… despite how it felt, and despite how long they'd known each other, this… _whatever it was_ between them was still something very new. Where were the lines? What were the rules for this? What was she comfortable with? He couldn't answer any of the questions in his own head. They really and truly were making it up as they went along… which was fine with him, as long as it was fine with her.

It seemed to her that he had lost the power of speech just then, and she wasn't sure quite what to say either. She certainly didn't consider herself beautiful. And yet, when Kurt said it… he made her _feel_ beautiful.

Standing up as tall as she could in front of him to bring their faces almost even with each other, she leaned closer to him, stopping with no more than an inch between their noses – at the most – and looked into his eyes.

"Thanks," she said simply. "You're not so bad yourself."

He grinned back at her, and after that neither of them was sure which of them moved, only that a second later they were kissing, suddenly not even noticing that the cold wind was whipping snow at their faces. Not a minute later, however, there was a familiar voice nearby, and they were pulling back from each other.

"They're _kissing_. _**Again**_." Sawyer and Sarah had walked back around the corner to see what had become of the two of them, and Sawyer didn't even try to hide his disgust.

"Sawyer, I told you we should have let them catch up with us when they were ready… Sometimes you need to give people privacy or you're not going to like what you see," Sarah was telling him, attempting to drag him back toward the house. Sawyer just threw up his hands as if he'd had enough, saying nothing else as he stomped back toward the house with Sarah close behind him.

"Sorry, guys," Sarah called back over her shoulder sheepishly as she followed her son.

Jane and Kurt were still standing with their faces close together, laughing quietly, when the other two finally left.

"Now where were we?" Kurt asked quietly, already moving his face closer to hers.

"Freezing," Jane replied with a smile.

"Well, if I have to freeze somewhere, this is a good place," he shrugged, smiling even as their lips made contact.

While they didn't give into the cold immediately, their kiss was cut short. As much as they hated to have to pull apart, they both had to admit that the biting wind was getting to them. It was silly to freeze to death right beside a perfectly good, warm house.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that there's snow in your boots that you didn't tell me about, and that your toes are going to be like ice cubes again," he said as they began walking again, side by side.

"I hadn't noticed it until just now!" she protested quickly. "I had other things on my mind."

"We are seriously getting you some winter gear when we get home," he said, shaking his head. "Even if we're not going to be back here again… We're bound to go _somewhere_ with snow again sometime."

His words had revealed several things about the future that, while they weren't exactly surprises, she hadn't given much thought to until now. She wondered if he had, either. "Oh we are, are we?" she asked him with a lopsided grin.

He shrugged, smiling as he realized that he'd talked so casually about future adventures with her. "I hope so," he said, smiling innocently. All she could do was smile back at him in agreement.

As they reached the front door, she asked him, "Does it bother you? Thinking that you have no reason to come back here again after this weekend? I mean, I know that you stayed away on purpose for a long time… And I know it hasn't been easy to be here… but… never coming back…?"

 _It's hard to imagine selling this house,_ he thought, _and yet, that's exactly what we're going to do. She's right. It's the last time I'll be here._

She saw him glance in the direction of Taylor's house before his eyes landed back on hers, and she could see the wheels turning inside his head. "I purposely didn't come back here in the last twenty-five years," he said slowly as they stomped the snow off of their feet on the porch and he put his hand on the doorknob to open the front door. He paused, however and said, "As much as things have changed recently… No, it doesn't bother me to think that I'll never come back to this house. I _am_ glad I came this time, though, as hard as it has been. And I'm glad _you_ came with me."

"Me, too," she replied with a nod and a shy smile. Even though she'd asked the question, she'd almost been afraid of the answer, so it was a relief when he seemed so… so _okay_. She knew that he was still processing everything that had happened, and that was still happening, and he wasn't necessarily done working through it, but at that moment they were both okay. Better than okay, because they were together.

He swung the door open and they stepped inside, the warm air exactly what they needed after so long in the bitter cold. It was like the way he felt about Jane, in a way. Never mind that the two were not as directly related as warm and cold, Jane was the much needed warmth in his life after the bitter cold that had seemed like it would never end – a lifetime of sadness, as he'd been haunted by what had happened to Taylor. Closing the door behind them, he wondered if he would be able to do so metaphorically as well, and leave the past in the past. Not the memories of Taylor, but the sting of the "cold" – the weight of the pain that he'd carried for most of his life. If anyone could help him try to leave it behind, he knew, it was Jane.

After all, it had _always_ been Jane.


	27. My Best Friend

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

They put their wet things – jackets, snow pants, hats, gloves, scarves and Jane's socks – into the dryer once again, and Jane went upstairs to get another pair while Kurt headed for the kitchen to take a look at what he was going to make for dinner. Sarah had added a few more logs to the fire, and she and Sawyer were settling down on the couch with a movie.

Opening the refrigerator, Kurt was impressed with the selection. Considering Sarah had only been stocking up for their few days there, there was actually a very good variety of food. This was both good and bad, of course, because it gave him a lot of options… He held the door open and stood peering inside, waiting for inspiration to strike him.

Instead, what hit him was another memory.

 _Can we have macaroni and cheese?_ he heard Taylor begging. _Please?_ He remembered that she'd drawn out the long e sound in _please_ , the way kids so often do, looking up at him with such a cute, sad face… it had always been his undoing. And then suddenly Sarah was there too, the younger Sarah, a few years older than Taylor but on the topic of macaroni and cheese, completely in agreement.

 _Kurt, you promised yesterday that you'd make it,_ Sarah said in much more of a whine than the sweet tone that Taylor was using. If it had only been Sarah, he wasn't sure he would have acquiesced, but he never had been able to say no to Taylor. Well, not unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then he'd always felt like the worst person in the world.

 _Alright, alright, I'll make macaroni and cheese,_ he'd replied, pretending that he'd seriously considered making anything else. The girls had jumped up and down, shrieking with excitement the way they did when they wound each other up.

 _Okay, relax,_ he'd said loudly, covering his ears, _before I change my mind_. The two girls had quieted down then. _It won't be ready for a little while,_ he'd told them. _I'll let you know when._

 _Thanks, Kurt,_ the younger version of Sarah had chirped happily, skipping over to the same couch where the older Sarah now sat and picking up a book that lay at one end, getting comfortable and opening it to read.

Taylor, on the other hand, had stayed right where she was and continued to watch him.

 _You should go do something, I'll let you know when it's ready,_ he'd assured her again.

 _I know,_ she'd told him. _But I'd rather hang out with you._

She had to have been five at the time, because it was the oldest he remembered her being. There was something about the matter-of-fact way that she'd said it, and the way she'd looked up at him. Taylor had always had a special way of looking at him, even her mom had commented on it many time over the years. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, he only knew that no one else he knew looked at him that way… as if he was the most important person in the world. Maybe that was why he was such a sucker for doing what she wanted. He simply hated to refuse her anything.

He'd smiled back at her and said, _That's fine by me_ , and then scooped her up and deposited her on the counter to sit and watch him while he worked. This was the way it usually happened when she kept him company in the kitchen, and the look of delight on her face told him that he'd done exactly as she'd hoped.

 _You're my best friend, Kurt,_ she'd told him as she'd lifted her feet out of the way so he could open the cabinet just below where she sat to get a pot in which to boil water. He saw his young self beam back at her, and while he remembered feeling truly happy in that moment, now, in the present tense, he felt an ache in his chest so intense that for a few seconds, it took his breath away.

Taylor had put her arms out for a hug then, as she often did with the exuberance of an affectionate five year old, and Kurt had stepped forward obligingly, faster than usual so that she didn't decide to launch herself off of the counter top in her excitement. He didn't care that other kids at school thought it was weird that he so often had a five year old girl who was _not_ actually his sister tagging along with him, and he had told them so on many occasions. When it came to Taylor, there was almost nothing that Kurt wouldn't do for her.

The pain in his chest had intensified, and he leaned his head down against his right arm, which now rested on the top of the door of the refrigerator. Sarah looked up from the couch and noticed his stance with concern, but she also saw Jane approaching him from the other side of the kitchen so she stayed where she was, almost certain that her assistance would not be needed. If anything, Jane would be able to do a better job at calming her brother down than she would.

Jane walked through the doorway of the kitchen, now wearing not one but _two_ pairs of socks on her freezing cold feet, and saw the back of Kurt as he leaned his head down against his arm.

 _Maybe I'm just in time_ , she thought, approaching him cautiously. Instead of walking up behind him, she went around to the other side of the refrigerator door, where she could look at him from the front. The disadvantage, of course, was that there would be a door between them, but she'd feel better if she could look him in the eyes.

"Hey," she said softly as she came to stand in front of him. "You okay?" Her left hand landed gently on the top of his head, and she ran her fingers lightly through his hair to the back of his neck, moving her fingertips lightly against his skin. He didn't look up, and she noticed that his breathing was slow and deliberate, as if he was concentrating hard on every breath. Her first thought was to get him out from inside the door of the refrigerator, and she put her right hand against the side of his left shoulder, tugging him slowly away from the refrigerator. When she finally got him clear of the door and pushed it closed, she was surprised by the speed with which he almost collapsed against her, wrapping her in a hug once again.

He felt himself shaking as Jane pried him out from behind the refrigerator door, and it was all he could do not to knock her over with the force of his hug when he was finally able to put his arms around her. The pain in his chest was so intense this time, so much worse than the other times, he was unable to form sentences, or even words, despite how much he wanted to. He was relieved when he felt her arms tighten around him, simply holding on.

 _I just need another minute,_ he thought, willing the pain in his heart to go away.

Whatever was happening inside his head, she could tell that this one must have been worse than the other flashbacks that she'd witnessed so far. She didn't think she had ever had anyone hold onto her as desperately as he was holding onto her then, at least, no one that she remembered… He was shaking, she noted with concern, and his breathing was shaky, which only made her pull him tighter against her, wishing with everything inside her that there was something more that she could do for him. Even though she knew that this was his fight, something that he had to endure in order to get past it, and that what she was doing was exactly what he needed her to do, still she felt completely inadequate just then. More than anything, she just wanted to make it stop.

She wondered if she should get him to go somewhere else, but short of going back to the car once again, there was nowhere that wouldn't be full of memories. Still, she decided, if she could at least get him around the corner and out of view of Sarah and Sawyer, they'd have a little bit of privacy, and he might appreciate that. With that thought in mind, she whispered, "Come on, let's go into the dining room." For a second she didn't think he'd heard her, because there was no sign that he intended to move.

When she whispered into his ear about going to the dining room, it took a few seconds before the words penetrated his brain. Once they did, it took him a few more seconds to think about _why_ she wanted to go into the dining room. Besides possibly just moving him away from the scene of his flashback, he reasoned that it made sense that she'd try to get them out of sight of Sarah and Sawyer, who he now remembered could see him from where they were. Grateful for her thoughtfulness, he nodded against the side of her face and turned himself partway, not letting go of her with either arm but at least straightening up enough to be able to walk as she steered the two of them out of the kitchen and towards the next room.

They'd slowly worked their way to the dining room, and Jane simply held onto him patiently, holding on tightly with her left hand and making slow circles on his lower back with her right. After he'd talked about his past few flashbacks, she now felt slightly more confident that he would tell her about it, but she was fine with it if he didn't want to. The only thing that was important to her was he was okay. Since he hadn't yet reached that point, she simply continued doing what she was doing.

It took a few minutes, but his breathing returned to normal and he began to stand back up. His eyes opened and he turned to his side and then, seeing the wall a few feet away from them, he backed himself towards it. He'd loosened his grip on her, but hadn't let go completely, however, as he backed away, his hands slipped down her arms and then fell to his sides just as his back came in contact with the wall.

She tried not to read into the fact that he still looked so shaken, and yet he had just backed away from her and let go of her completely. _This is not about you_ , she reminded herself. _This is about him._ Turning to face him but leaving the space between them – even though she wanted to close it again – she kept her eyes on him, waiting for a clue as to what to do next.

He was surprised when suddenly he opened his eyes to find that he was leaning his back against the wall and she was several feet away from him. _How did that happen?_ he wondered, wishing that the space between them would disappear. He wasn't ready to move off of the wall to get closer to her, however. After all, it felt like the wall was the only thing holding him up as he began to speak.

His eyes closed again as he began to form the words. "I was looking in the refrigerator, and then all of a sudden I looked over and I could see her there, at the kitchen table." He took a breath, and she stayed right where she was, watching and listening. "She begged me to make macaroni and cheese one night. Well, lots of nights, really. Her mom was at work and my dad was… _out_ … somewhere… As soon as she saw that I was going to make dinner that night, she started her campaign. I couldn't say yes to mac and cheese _every_ time, but I probably did it more than I should have. It was so hard for me to say 'no' to her… and I think she knew it, too…" What was probably meant as a chuckle came out sounding more miserable than humorous.

"She and Sarah were both begging for mac and cheese, so I said I'd make it. Sarah went to sit on the couch with a book. Very typical Sarah. Taylor wanted to hang out with me while I cooked. I don't think there was a time when she _didn't_ hang out with me while I was cooking..." He sighed, his mouth twitching, but he managed to continue. "I picked her up and sat her on the counter, like always, and before I'd even had a chance to fill a pot with water…" He swallowed hard then, and she knew that whatever he was going to say next was what was really hurting him.

"She told me that I was her best friend," he whispered, his voice breaking. "And she just reached out for a hug. She was one of those really affectionate kids, the ones who always want to give people hugs." He paused for a deep breath, his entire body seeming to stiffen. His eyes squeezed shut, which pushed tears out from the corners. "She was _so innocent_ ," he said, anger in his voice all of a sudden, "How could I _not_ protect her from something so horrible? From a monster? A monster who was my _father_ …"

His fists were balled tightly at his sides and he was shaking slightly, and anyone else would probably have been afraid to go any closer to him just then. It may well have been dangerous for anyone else to go near him in that state, but Jane stepped forward without a second thought, putting her hands on his arms just above his elbows and gently sliding them down towards his hands, covering his fists with her own until she felt them loosen. There she stood, not sure exactly what to do next. However, she didn't have to wonder for long.

He wasn't sure why he'd pushed himself back against the wall, away from her in the first place. All of his experience over the past few days told him that he was calmer, more at ease, when he was closer to her. And so when he had found himself several feet away from her, he hadn't been able to find a good explanation _why_. Now, however, he felt her hands on his arms, then taking his hands, and he felt himself begin to relax, despite how tightly wound he was. Still not opening his eyes, he just leaned his head forward until his forehead found her shoulder. Her hands came up to the sides of his face, holding on gently.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"It's not your fault," he replied quickly, shaking his head against her shoulder.

"I know that," she said, slowly but firmly, leaning slightly towards his ear, since it was besides her face, "but it wasn't yours either. And I'm sorry that you felt like you had to carry the guilt with you for so long. Not because it was my fault, but because I know what it feels like to wish you could undo a decision that wasn't really yours to undo. And for you, that decision was even less yours than mine was mine," she told him softly. "It was _never_ your fault."

He choked out sobs for a few minutes, struggling, but failing, to get control of himself. Reaching forward slowly, he found her waist and pulled her gently towards him. As he stood there, finally beginning to breathe normally again, he could feel calm descending around him just from the sound of her voice.

"It's going to be okay," she told him, and then smiled at the fact that _she_ was telling _him_ the same thing that he'd told her so many times.

"Oh it is, huh?" he asked, finally lifting his head and opening his eyes to look at her, smiling weakly.

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "Someone very wise and very strong keeps telling me that. And I'm finally starting to believe that it might be true."

He chuckled softly, despite the fact that he felt completely drained. It seemed impossible that anything could be funny, and yet somehow she'd made him laugh.

"We've almost made it through a full day here," she said soothingly. "I bet you're looking forward to going home tomorrow, huh?"

"Well, sure," he said, "being here has been… overwhelming. But then again, how often do I have an excuse to hang out with you like this at home?"

A hint of a smile crossed her face. She hadn't wanted to think about going back, because as delighted as she'd been not to be staring at the walls of her safe house for the past few days, she knew that the time away, the time _with him_ , was going to make going back there even harder. As far as the two of them… she hadn't dared to even hope for there to be anything between them when they got back. It had hurt so much to lose their entire connection the first time… She just couldn't think about it.

When she looked away, he watched as something in her face changed. She didn't say anything, and she didn't look back at him, either. It was the first time either of them had mentioned home for quite a while, and he had a feeling he knew where her thoughts were going.

"Okay, so lack of an excuse isn't really an accurate way to describe the situation," he conceded. "Since you've been back… We… _I_ treated you unfairly, Jane, these last few months. When we go back to New York… it's not going to be the same as it was."

She glanced back up at him, attempting to keep her face impassive, attempting not to let herself hope. It was so tempting, though, to think that whatever had been happening between them in the past forty-eight hours didn't have to end. _Too tempting_.

Putting that out of her mind for the time being, however, she decided to focus on where they were _now_. After all, it was hard enough going minute to minute in that house full of the ghost of Taylor Shaw without worrying about what would happen when they got home. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen, after all. The only thing she'd accomplish by worrying about it was to be unable to enjoy the time she had with him _now_.

Nodding and now meeting his eyes with determination, she changed the subject. "So, any thoughts about dinner?" she asked.

He could see what she was doing, but considering how unwaveringly she'd supported him, it seemed like the least he could do to let her steer the conversation away from the topic of going home. He would work on her hesitation on that subject when they got there.

"Do you feel like anything in particular?" he asked her, his arms still wrapped around her gently.

"Why don't we go in there together and take a look?" she suggested, to which he nodded in agreement. She took a step back, leaving space for him to step away from the wall, and then turned slowly, feeling his arms fall from her sides as his right hand found her left, holding on loosely.

 _Please don't let Sawyer ask him to make macaroni and cheese when we go back in there,_ she thought silently as he followed her back towards the kitchen. However, when they got there they saw that Sawyer was engrossed in whatever Christmas movie Sarah had put on TV. Sarah, on the other hand, looked up curiously as soon as they entered the room. Her eyes went to Jane's, and they seemed to ask a question. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she'd noticed her brother's distress before, Jane realized, so she just smiled at Sarah, nodding slightly before walking towards the refrigerator beside Kurt.

Rationally he already knew from experience that he could be literally anywhere in this house and have memories of Taylor, since it had happened just about everywhere so far. Still, he'd stood and hesitated before walking the last few steps towards the refrigerator, looking inside of which had seemed to trigger his most recent memory. Jane was suddenly beside him, slipping her arm gently around his waist and opening the door so they could peer inside together. For this he felt immensely grateful.

"Looks like she bought out the whole grocery store," Jane commented quietly. She was used to the near empty refrigerator in her safe house, and this was a far cry from that. It seemed that Sarah had bought enough food to stock a large family for quite some time, instead of just their little group for a matter of a few days.

"Hey Sarah, have you heard something about a coming apocalypse that we don't know about?" Kurt called to his sister. When she looked up at him blankly, he added, "There's a _lot_ of food in here."

She just shrugged, replying, "It's always good to have choices. And I have a ten year old who tends to eat everything in sight… so I figured it was better to be safe."

 _Choices… yes, those are good to have, I suppose_ ,Jane thought with a hint of bitterness. So much of what had happened to her had been a result of choices that she had had no part of.

 _But then again,_ the voice in her head reasoned, _those choices that you didn't make led you here, so… maybe they weren't all bad._ That was a hard pill to swallow, knowing what little she knew about her past, but she had to concede that point. She was there, standing close beside Kurt as he peered into the refrigerator. Whatever else Remi or anyone else had done or not done, that was the path that had led her to him.

"Let's see," he was saying, actually looking at the contents of the refrigerator for the first time. He didn't give any clues as to what he was thinking of making, but he was mumbling to himself with what seemed to be approval, so she took that as a good sign. A minute later he stepped back, tugging her along with him, and closed the door to the refrigerator, then opened several of the cupboards, checking their contents as well.

She was glad to see that he appeared pleased with what he'd seen. "So what did you decide on?" she asked him curiously.

"It's a surprise," he told her with a smile, and she couldn't help but think how much happier he looked than he had only a few minutes before.

When she dropped her arm from around his waist he glanced at her, then before he could ask, she told him, "I'm just going to step over here out of the way to let you work. If I can help with anything, great… otherwise I'll just be your cheering section."

"Wow," he replied, looking impressed, "who knew that chefs could have cheerleaders?" Narrowing her eyes at him playfully, she shoved him in the side as she reluctantly stepped away from him, leaning against the section of counter only a few feet away. She worried that what she was doing – hanging out with him while he cooked, leaning against the counter – would be too similar to the way he'd just described Taylor a few minutes before, but even so, she didn't think that it would be beneficial to him if she wandered off to do something else. Up to this point it seemed that while it wasn't a guarantee that he wouldn't retreat into his mind, he seemed to be calmer when he did if she was there. Besides, she _wanted_ to be near him.

 _I guess I have that in common with Taylor_ , she thought sadly, forcing a smile onto her face in case he looked over at her.

Kurt pulled out a pot from the lower cabinet… The same one that he'd just seen Taylor sitting above on the counter in his memory... and the same one that Jane was now standing just barely beyond, leaning against the counter and looking at him sadly. However he refused to let the coincidence deter him. Using a measuring cup to put a certain amount of water in the pot, he set it on the stove to heat up. He began to gather his ingredients on the counter, with Jane watching him carefully from a few feet away. By the time he was done, he had a rice, tortillas, salsa, pork, sour cream and avocado. Whatever he was making, she was sure it was going to be good.

While he had learned it mostly as a survival skill as a kid, Kurt had enjoyed cooking for almost as long as he could remember. With his schedule the way it was these days, he didn't get to do very much of it, however, and lately he'd done even less than usual now that Sarah wasn't living with him to keep the refrigerator stocked with actual food. These days, his refrigerator was stocked mainly with takeout containers. Therefore, once he finally got going, he realized just how long it had been since the last time he'd really cooked anything worth mentioning. He'd been so tired the night before when he'd made spaghetti, he hadn't even realized it.

Jane watched quietly, mostly making conversation and occasionally asking questions about what he was making, which, to her frustration, Kurt refused to answer. He'd say one thing for her, she'd definitely learned a lot from observing so many FBI interrogations, because she the questions she asked were well thought out. Sadly for her, Kurt was just really good at keeping information a secret once he'd decided to do so.

His ingredients pointed to dinner being pork tacos, so it wasn't that she couldn't make a reasonable guess about what he was making, it was more that she was disappointed that her interrogation was getting her nowhere. While the rice was cooking and the pork sizzled in a skillet, he walked over to her slowly, watching her face break out into a grin as he got closer.

"It smells really good," she told him as he stopped in front of her. He was still a few inches away, close enough for either of them to easily reach out to the other, and yet they both just stood there, looking into each other's eyes and smiling. Her right arm rested on the counter where she leaned against it, and he put his left hand down gently on top of her hand.

"Thanks," he said with a smile, his face close to hers. "It's almost ready."

He'd seemed untroubled for the past twenty minutes, as she had been as well, and even though she knew that it wouldn't last, it had been a relief. Any minute where neither of them was bothered by anything seemed like a gift, at that point.

The only thing she was conscious of was the fact that his thumb was moving slowly back and forth against her hand, and he was looking at her with an intensity that made her both smile and look away. Just then, of course, the timer beeped, and he looked over at the food. With an apologetic smile he reluctantly withdrew his hand from hers, turning to silence the timer and stir the meat once more.

While he suddenly seemed much too far away, she couldn't help but feel the glow of his proximity remain even after he'd stepped away from her. Whatever this was between them – and she still didn't know _what_ it was – they seemed to be in silent agreement about the speed with which it should unfold – as close to _glacial_ as possible. Most people probably would have been frustrated, but as far as she was concerned, it was perfect. After all, they'd taken a huge jump forward at first, and their minds needed to catch up.

Before she realized that she'd been lost in thought, he was in front of her again. "It's ready," he declared with a smile.

"Let me set the table," she offered, realizing too late that she could easily have done that before and made herself useful. When she walked around him to the silverware drawer and took out enough for the four of them, he just chuckled and shook his head, surprised that she'd moved away so quickly. While she did that, he took out three bottles of beer for the adults and a glass for Sawyer's milk, removing the tops from the bottles and filling the glass.

Just them, Sarah wandered over to the kitchen. "Something smells _really_ good over here," she said with interest.

"Movie over?" Kurt asked over his shoulder as he dished the food onto serving plates.

"Yep," Sarah replied, "and it looks like the timing was perfect." Then, turning to Sawyer, who appeared to be half asleep on the couch, she called, "Sawyer, go wash your hands for dinner." A moment later, a sleepy looking ten year old lumbered by them to the bathroom without a word.

"He's going to sleep well tonight," Sarah chuckled, following him to the bathroom to wash her own hands. Jane and Kurt both smiled in the direction of Sarah's departing back, then looked back at each other. She wished that they weren't about to eat, because she really just wanted to curl up by the fireplace with him, but she was also very interested to taste his cooking.

They put the food and the plates down on the table, and the other two Wellers returned. Once they were all seated, Kurt cleared his throat and said, "Well, I know this isn't a traditional Christmas dinner, but… well, it hasn't been much of a normal year, either. So this year it's Tex Mex Pork Tacos, and I hope you all enjoy it."

He noticed that Sarah was beaming at him, the look in her eyes telling him that she was about to say something emotional – which she was.

"And since we're all here, I just wanted to say…" She looked around at the three pairs of eyes watching her at the table with a watery smile, and continued. "…that I'm really glad that we could do this, here, one more time." Her eyes fell on Kurt and her smile faltered as she said, "I know it's not the easiest place to be…" Before she continued, her eyes went to Jane. "But I'm grateful that we're all here." Glancing at her son before her eyes swept around the table again, she added, "It's been a hell of a year for all of us, and… I hope that next year will be the one where we all find peace."

"I'll drink to that!" Kurt said, raising his beer in the air. The other three quickly followed suit, clinking their drinks together. Without even thinking about it, he and Jane leaned closer to each other, their forearms touching as they leaned against the table.

Sarah had watched the two of them scoot their chairs closer together when they had first sat down, and she had a feeling that they weren't even aware that they'd done it. The inside edges of their chairs were now pressed together, as close as they could get, and the occupants of the chairs weren't much farther apart. It really was a beautiful thing to see – Kurt so happy after he'd been through so much.

They wasted no time in passing around the food and putting together their tacos, and the conversation flowed easily. It may not have seemed like Christmas, since it was unlike any Christmas the Wellers had ever had, and the food wasn't at all traditional, but it did remind Kurt of the days when Sarah and Sawyer had lived with him in New York. Of course, it was even _better_ than those days, because now Jane was there as well. He hadn't even known back then what he'd been missing, or how much happier he could be.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, sitting on his left, and caught her pressing the round pendant of the necklace between the fingers of her left hand. He couldn't decide whether or not it was an unconscious gesture, but it made him smile either way. Seeing the necklace again reminded him what an emotional day it had been for both of them, not just him. Her right hand rested on the table in between bites, and he took the opportunity to brush the back of it with the back of his left hand, casually but very much on purpose.

When she felt his hand brush against hers, she glanced up at him shyly, figuring that the touch hadn't been an accident. She still had the pendant on her necklace pressed between her fingers, and his hand brushing against hers only accentuated the glow of happiness that she was already feeling. This moment was so much more than she'd allowed herself to hope for ever since things had gone so terribly wrong between them, and she felt, not for the first time, like she was living inside a dream. This moment was so perfect, she refused to think either about the past, or any farther ahead. After all, her past was so painfully complicated, and she knew all too well that the future was uncertain.

They finished eating and Sarah cleared away the plates, proclaiming that she had dessert "under control," and that everyone else should stay seated. She got no arguments from the other three. Everyone was in a good mood, and it seemed that the glow of giddy happiness that was coming from Jane and Kurt was affecting herself and her son, as well. Or maybe it was just that it was Christmas, and the snow looked so picturesque as it fell outside the window… whatever it was, Sarah couldn't remember a time when they'd all been so happy. If there had been another one, it had been a long, long time ago.

As they sat and waited for dessert, Jane felt Kurt drape his arm across the back of her chair, shifting his weight even closer to her than it had already been. They'd now been in Clearfield for twenty-four hours, just barely. It had been forty-eight hours since the FBI holiday party had _started_ , but not yet since it had finished. It all seemed impossible, because despite what her memories told her, she felt as though she had always felt the way she did at that moment – the glow of happiness, the security of _not_ being alone. She knew their opposites all too well, and yet… it felt like a long time ago since she hadn't felt exactly the way she felt just then.

So why, then, was there a nagging feeling at the back of her mind? One she'd been pushing away all weekend, but the whispers of which kept pushing their way forward in her mind ever so slightly. _This isn't yours_ , it tried to tell her. She didn't know why, but she got the feeling that it was a shadow of Remi, of her former self, trying to emerge. Combine that with a feeling that all this was too good to be true… No, she was not going to allow those thoughts to even enter her mind. Not now, when things were so perfect, and hopefully not ever. She knew that it would be more useful to _deal with_ them, but this was not the time for that.

The look on her face when she glanced over at him as he'd draped his arm behind her chair warmed his heart. He could tell from looking at her that at that moment, she was just as happy as he was. It was a relief that their thoughts had allowed them this moment of peace. After all, they were still here in his childhood house, and he had no allusions about whether he'd seen the last of Taylor. As much as the memories hurt him, the thought of _not_ remembering her felt worse, so he couldn't bring himself to wish for them to stop… He was, however, happy that just then, he was only thinking about Jane.

Sarah had not made dessert herself, she'd simply bought the components, and a few minutes later she proudly placed small, individually constructed Strawberry Shortcakes in front of each of them. She emphasized that she'd bought everything and just threw them together – which gave Kurt more confidence in how it would taste, despite her other successes in the kitchen so far this weekend – but they still _ooohhhed_ and _aaahhhed_ over the presentation before quickly digging in.

Jane couldn't help but notice that Kurt's arm remained stretched out along the back of her chair, leaning gently but steadily against the middle of her back, throughout dessert. The shortcakes were delicious, just as dinner had been, and now with Kurt's arm behind her… she hadn't thought it possible for this evening to feel even _more_ like a dream, and yet… it did.

"Mom, can we watch Rudolph again, so Jane can see it?" Sawyer asked.

"I don't know if she's up for it, buddy." Everyone around the table looked sleepy, Jane included, and Sarah looked at the other woman curiously. "Think you can stay awake long enough? It's a short movie… I think it's about an hour," Sarah told her. "Up to you. Sawyer's seen it a million times."

"I'll give it a try," Jane replied, trying very hard not to yawn then and there. "I guess I was too comfortable last time." She eyed Kurt accusingly, a playful smile on her face, and he just grinned in return.

"You guys go set it up," Sarah told them, waving them toward the family room. "I've got the dishes."

"Are you sure?" Jane asked, feeling guilty for leaving her with the cleanup.

"I'm sure," Sarah said emphatically. "Kurt did all the cooking, and I want you two over there together, relaxing," she grinned, adding, "Think of it as a Christmas present, since I so unfortunately had nothing to give you. Especially after you gave me the gift of making Kurt so happy."

Jane felt herself blushing a deep red then, not knowing what to say to such a significant compliment. She smiled hard, looking away, then back at Sarah self-consciously. "Oh wow, Sarah, I…" She glanced at Kurt, who was smiling in agreement, perhaps just a little bit of embarrassment showing on his face as well, then back at Sarah. Jane bit her lip, more overcome by what Sarah had said the more it sank into her brain.

"I'm serious," Sarah said, "now get out of here. I'll join you guys when I'm done. _I've_ seen this move a million times, too." She shooed them out of the kitchen with a smile.

Sawyer had already scampered off towards the TV to switch out the tapes in the VCR, and Jane and Kurt stood up slowly to follow him. Even though she knew they were going to settle down to watch the movie side by side, she almost hated to stand up from the table and lose the sensation of his arms across her back. Before they'd taken more than a few steps toward the family room, the back of his left hand brushed the back of her right once again, his index finger locking gently around hers, without the company of the other fingers. It was such an innocent gesture, and in a way that made her love it even more.

Without hesitation, they headed for their favorite spot in front of the fireplace. Jane sat down, while Kurt stopped to get another log to put on the fire, then came to join her. Since she'd said she wanted to stay awake long enough to watch the movie this time, he didn't try to get her to lay her head in his lap, which would have significantly increased the likelihood that she would fall asleep. Instead, once again sitting on her right, on the side farther from the fireplace, he leaned towards her, anchoring himself by putting his hand down behind her, but on her left side, and then simply leaning close to her.

She'd sat perfectly still when he sat down next to her, waiting to see where he would settle himself. When he moved in her direction, she felt butterflies swirling in her stomach.

 _Don't be silly,_ she told herself. _It's not the first time you'd been this close… not even close to the first time_. And yet, it didn't stop the slightly giddy feeling she got inside her. Smiling shyly, she tucked her feet behind her on her left side and leaned towards him in return, dropping her head gently against his shoulder. He wasn't even actually holding onto her, but it was perfect. She did her best to concentrate on Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, immediately empathizing with the poor animal that no one wanted to play with.

 _Poor thing,_ she thought sadly, _I know what_ _ **that's**_ _like._ Still, underneath her connection with the fictional reindeer she felt at peace. After all, this was just about the most perfect day she could remember, despite all of the bumps along the way. If anything, after the ups and downs of the day, she felt even closer to Kurt than she knew she would have if everything had gone smoothly. While she wouldn't have wished for so many things to have upset them, she tried to see the good that had come from it. After all, like so many other things, she couldn't change the recent past any more than she could change the more serious things that had happened in the less recent past.

The movie was almost over when it occurred to Jane to wonder, out of nowhere, if Kurt had ever watched that particular movie with Taylor. If the others were to be believed, it was a classic, and would have been something he'd seen many times as a child. And if he'd seen it with Taylor… She wondered if there was another flashback coming.

And just like that, she felt him tense slightly beside her, though if she hadn't been paying attention, or if she hadn't just wondered about whether the movie would trigger a flashback for him, she may not have noticed. Lifting her head from his shoulder and glancing at him without a word, she saw an anguished look on his face as he stared toward the screen ahead of him, no longer seeming to focus on it. She moved herself closer to him, laying her right hand on his left knee, which sat in front of her.

He wasn't sure how he'd managed to forget that he'd sat on that couch with Taylor and watched this same movie more than once _every single year_ around Christmas time. Granted, every single year of a five year old's life wasn't many, and the year that she was an infant wasn't included, but… that still left more than a few times when he'd watched the movie with her. He remembered the last time the best, when she'd really seemed to understand what was going on, and how mean the other reindeer were being to Rudolph.

 _Why are they so mean to him?_ Taylor had asked, turning to look at him with her green eyes wide in innocent confusion.

 _I don't know,_ Kurt had replied, trying to simplify the problem to a five year old level but not coming up with a good answer right away. _Sometimes when someone is different, they make other people nervous._

 _But they're not people,_ Taylor had pointed out, _they're reindeer._

He'd smiled at her observation, then nodded at her patiently. _Nope, you're right. But reindeer can't really talk, can they?_

She thought about it for a minute, then shook her head. _No. So… they're just acting like people?_

 _Exactly,_ he'd told her. _And some people can be mean to other people when they are uncomfortable, or when they don't understand something. Or sometimes, when they're scared._

 _But… didn't their moms teach them to be nice?_ she asked, seemingly unable to let the topic rest until she understood why the reindeer were being mean to Rudolph.

 _Maybe not,_ he said with a smile, _or maybe they just haven't grown up enough to understand that what they're doing isn't nice._

 _Well,_ _ **I'm**_ _grown up enough to understand,_ she'd said proudly, sitting up as straight as she could to make herself taller and looking at him somberly over her shoulder for approval.

 _You sure are,_ he said seriously. _I'm so proud of you_.

Her entire face had broken into a smile then, and she had turned and launched herself towards him in a hug so fierce, he swore he felt it even now, back in the present, sitting beside Jane. The memory faded then, and he felt his surroundings fading back in around him.

The credits had just started rolling, and Sarah stood up and stretched. "The great thing about VHS movies," she said with a yawn, "is that the kid can't beg to watch the Special Features. Because back then there _were_ no Special Features."

"You guys had it rough, huh?" Sawyer teased her as she poked at him mercilessly until he broke out laughing. Sarah stuck her tongue out at him, which only made Sawyer laugh harder.

Turning to Kurt, she asked, "Are you guys still planning on leaving in the morning?" Managing to recover enough to answer her question, he glanced at the window. In the dim porch light just outside the window, he could vaguely see fat snowflakes still falling.

"Well, that was the plan…" he began, forcing himself to push aside the memory of Taylor, at least until he could escape from Sarah's attentive gaze. "However, I think it's understandable that we're _not_ going to want to risk getting stuck on the side of the road in another storm."

Sarah nodded in understanding. "So, we'll take a look at the weather in the morning and play it by ear?"

Hesitating, Kurt seemed to need a few seconds longer to process her question. "Sounds good," he replied. His voice was dull and he sounded… _distracted_ , Sarah decided. While she was concerned about him, she was pretty confident that Jane would be able to get to the bottom of things better than she would herself.

"Alright, well, I'm going to turn in early. That fresh air really took it out of me," she said to Jane and Kurt as she turned to poke Sawyer again. "Come on mister, let's go upstairs and let Jane and Uncle Kurt have some peace. I might even let you watch TV in my room for a while." Sawyer had been looking dubious about being ordered upstairs so early – it was only just after 8:00, after all, and he was on _vacation_ – but he perked right up at the mention of watching TV in his mom'sroom. There were more channels on that TV, and it was bigger, after all.

Kurt wanted to tell Sarah that they didn't have to clear out on their account, but the truth was, the quiet time with Jane sounded nice. The day had taken a lot out of him, and he wasn't even sure he wouldn't end up going to bed early, as well. Once they had said their good nights and Sarah and Sawyer disappeared up the stairs, Jane turned to Kurt and looked into his eyes, wondering if he would want to talk about whatever it had been this time.

Her hand was still on his knee, he noticed, and he looked down at it as he started talking. "I don't know how I didn't think about it earlier," he said, "or why I didn't realize that the movie was bound to remind me…" He felt her squeeze his knee and took a deep breath. "I'd watched that movie at least a couple times a year with her since she was two, I think… sitting on the couch, where Sarah was sitting…" Jane glanced up at the couch, and then back to Kurt. "That's where I saw us this time. It was the last time I watched it with her, before…"

He had meant to end that sentence exactly one word earlier and spare himself a tiny bit of anguish, but it had just slipped out. However, he pushed past it.

"She asked me why the other reindeer were being mean to Rudolph," he said quietly, shaking his head. "That's not an easy thing to explain to a five year old, but I tried. I said that they were acting the way people act, that people who are scared or uncomfortable are sometimes mean to other people." Jane nodded silently, moving her hand slightly on his knee and leaning closer to him. He made a sound that was supposed to be a chuckle then, but came out as a more miserable sounding version as he said, "Then she asked, 'didn't their moms teach them to be nice?'"

Jane smiled sadly right along with Kurt then. By this point, she felt like she knew this version of the girl that she had formerly thought herself to be. The version that Kurt talked about seeing in his vivid flashbacks, somehow, seemed like a separate Taylor Shaw than the one she'd thought that she was, that she felt so connected to – maybe because she'd only just heard these stories now, after so much time had passed since she'd learned the truth.

"I told her, 'Maybe not, or maybe they're just not grown up enough to know that what they're doing isn't nice.' So of course, she told me that _she_ was grown up enough to know better, and I certainly couldn't argue with her there." Kurt turned to face Jane, so that he was sitting perpendicular to her. Beyond her he could see the fireplace, which was on her left side. He put his left hand on top of her right one, which was still on his knee. "I told her that I _knew_ that she was grown up enough to know better, and that I was proud of her," he said in a whisper, still not looking up at her.

Jane watched him sadly, blinking hard and feeling tears in her own eyes. She turned slowly so that she was sitting across from him, reaching her left hand up and resting it against his cheek. It had barely been there for half a second when she felt him lean into her touch, and his eyes closed as he inhaled slowly.

"It's been a long day," she said quietly. "Maybe we should try to get some sleep." Even though she was a little bit uneasy about the sleeping situation, since they had basically agreed that morning, after half a night of nightmares for each of them, that they wouldn't attempt to go to bed separately again, she figured that even a slight awkwardness between them would be preferable to allowing him to keep remembering more and more things that weighed so heavily on his mind. He wanted to remember, she knew, but she also knew that just what a toll it was taking on him.

He opened his eyes then and looked up at her, still leaning into her palm, and the look in his eyes took her breath away for a second. She had thought a long time ago that she would never again see that look from him, that mixture of intense feelings that she could see in his eyes just then, the look that told her just how important she was to him.

Without moving his face out of her palm, he nodded without a word, then put his right hand up to cover her hand, slowly moving it off of his cheek and intertwining their fingers together. Before letting their hands fall from beside his face, he moved them closer instead, carefully planting a gentle kiss just between the joints on her middle finger.

It was as though every time she thought she couldn't feel more for him, suddenly she did.

She managed to get to her feet first this time, and she helped _him_ to his feet with a tug on the hand that was still holding tightly to hers. "You okay?" she asked, even though she knew it was a ridiculous question. After everything, how could he be okay? How could _she_ , either, for that matter?

And yet, when she asked him that, he was able to nod _yes_ honestly, because somehow, he _was_ okay. "Let me just put out the fire," he said tiredly, letting go of her hand so that he could quickly ensure that the fire in the fireplace was taken care of. Once that was done, he walked back over to her and draped his arm over her shoulders without a word, her arm winding around his back as well, and they walked toward the steps slowly together.

It had not been an easy Christmas Day, to be sure, but it had brought them closer together, and forced them to deal with some of their most important unresolved issues. As Jane leaned her head against his shoulder once again, he knew that no matter how many times in his life he had been in the wrong place, he was in the right place now.


	28. If You Want

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

They paused at the top of the stairs, both mentally considering the few steps that still needed to be completed before they could hopefully put that long, emotional day to rest. Jane glanced at Kurt and wondered if, for his sake, he might be able to make it the last few minutes without another flashback. Watching him suffer through them again and again was worse than if she'd been suffering through them herself. After all, she'd had a long time to get used to that sort of thing by now. She remembered how jarring they had been in the first few days, and she hated to see him going through that pain, even if it wasof a slightly different sort.

"I'll be right in," he told her, stepping away from her slowly in the direction of the hallway bathroom. He didn't _want_ to, of course, but each of them would need at least a few minutes in there before they could go to bed, so he may as well get it over with, he decided. Her gaze followed him and she nodded slightly, their eyes only leaving each other when he stepped inside the bathroom door and it closed behind him.

Alone in the hall, she turned and quietly opened the door to his bedroom. Switching on the light, she glanced around to see everything just as she'd left it, once again soaking in the feeling of going back in time to Kurt's teenage years. She supposed it was the closest a person could get to actual time travel.

Kneeling beside her bag on the floor, she felt tiredness wash over her, both physical and emotional. It had been a long, hard day, and she hoped desperately that this night was easier than the previous one had been. Yes, they'd slept extremely well _eventually_ , but the cost of this had been half a night of nightmares that caused them each to break down completely. She knew that tonight would be different, so why did she feel so… _uneasy_? It wasn't as though she had any doubts about his intentions. Quite the opposite, actually. No, it was probably just the awkwardness of the fact that they were still in a very fragile place, trying to rebuild their relationship, and once again it was coming down to the issue of trust.

 _It's now finally been forty-eight hours since we started even talking again,_ she reasoned _. Despite how much has happened in that time, it's still only two days. You can't rebuild trust in two days, no matter how much you want to. Not completely, anyway. You're off to a really good start, but that's what it is – a start. Give yourself a break. None of this is easy for either of you. But at least you can_ _ **finally**_ _admit that it's what you want._

She held her pajamas tightly against her without realizing it, standing up slowly and walking towards the window, once again as if she was drawn by some unseen, magnetic force. Even though Taylor's old house was very much obscured from her view in the dark, she moved the curtain aside and stared in that direction.

The blackness was so complete on that side of the house that she could barely see the snow that was falling only inches outside of the window. So many tiny events had led them to this place, it seemed impossible that they'd ended up here at all. And yet… there she was, in the house where Kurt had grown up, staring towards what she knew to be the former residence of the girl that she'd once thought that she had been.

 _Why did I get to survive, and Taylor didn't?_ she wondered bitterly. There was no answer to that question, of course. It was so random, all of it, just like everything else in her life. Just like everything in the _world_ , as far as she could tell _._

All at once she felt the weight of far too many problems resting on her shoulders. Even knowing that she hadn't caused them, she felt the burden of them nonetheless. It wasn't fair that she, a woman who had done so many terrible things, had survived while someone like Taylor Shaw, who had been the embodiment of innocence itself, had not. Despite the fact that she'd already had her fill of lessons on the 'life isn't fair' topic, this one still tore at her. It seemed even less fair than all the rest of them.

When Kurt opened the door to the bedroom a few minutes later and saw Jane staring out the window in the direction of Taylor's house, he noticed that she was deep in thought, and didn't seem to hear him come in. Watching her closely for a minute, he saw the anguish in her eyes. His first thought, his _only_ thought, was that he had to make it go away. As much as he himself was hurting, it felt a hundred times worse to see _her_ suffering, and he would have done _anything_ to ease her burden.

Approaching her without hesitation, he slowed down as he reached her, reaching out tentatively to put his right hand on her upper back. She hadn't yet turned to look at him, though she now knew that he was there. When she felt his hand on her back, she felt herself relax significantly, letting go of a breath that she hadn't even realized that she was holding… or maybe that was just the feeling of the weight of the world on her shoulders lessening because he was beside her. All she knew was that he was there, and he made things better with his presence alone.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Turning to look at him, she nodded at him and smiled weakly. "Yeah," she replied simply, more determined to be okay than actually okay as she leaned towards him. Her stomach flip-flopped when he pulled her closer with the hand that he'd laid on her back, his cheek brushing against her forehead.

"It's been a hell of a day," he observed, feeling her sigh against him.

"Yeah," she said again, nodding again, letting herself lean against him as her arm wound around him, now a comfortable habit. "I'm just going to go get ready…" Wishing that she didn't have to, after a few seconds' hesitation, she stepped away from him, looking back up at him and smiling tiredly. She slowly withdrew her arm from around him, his hand not falling from her back until she took a few steps away and he had no other choice short of walking with her.

Once the door closed behind her, he sighed quietly and found his own pajamas, changing into them and putting away his clothes from that day. As many times as he'd said it to himself, it was still hard to believe that they'd only been there just a little more than one full day. This place and the memories he had there had bombarded him so thoroughly, he felt as though they'd been there for at least a week.

Walking slowly to the bed, he pulled the covers back and sat down hesitantly. They hadn't spoken about the sleeping arrangements since that morning, when they'd agreed that sleeping separately, while it had seemed like the logical choice the night before, hadn't worked the way they'd expected. After they'd both had nightmares and had only finally slept when they'd lain down together, it had become clear to them that they should simply have started out that way. But now that they faced another night, could they overlook the awkwardness of the situation and do as they'd _said_ that they'd wished they'd done the night before?

 _It's up to her,_ he told himself. Of course it was up to her. He knew that he would sleep better if he had her close to him, but if she wasn't comfortable with that, then that was okay with him. After all, after the way he'd treated her for the past few months, he owed her proof of just how serious he was when he said that he cared, and of just how important she was to him.

The door opened again softly, and she padded in, the only sound the squeak of the floorboards under her feet.

"Hey," she whispered, her nervous smile betraying just how uncertain she felt just then.

"Hey, welcome back," he replied, watching her carefully.

After tucking her clothes back into her bag, she stood up at looked at him uncertainly. The sleeping bag that they'd now shared twice was folded in the corner of the room, and he sat on the bed, on top of the covers that he'd pulled back.

"So," he began, clearing his throat quietly, "Do you still want to… share? Because I can put the sleeping bag out again…"

Her chest flooded with feelings of affection for him. The idea that he would even suggest taking the floor once again, knowing the nightmares he'd had there the night before, because he didn't want to make her uncomfortable… it was overwhelming.

Smiling warmly now and feeling slightly less awkward, she shook her head. "That didn't go so well last night, remember?" she asked. He smiled back at her, the uncertainty disappearing from his face as her words sunk in.

Just the confirmation that she hadn't changed her mind about wanting to sleep beside him after all almost overwhelmed him with happiness as he scooted himself slowly and deliberately under the blankets. Moving back and propping himself up on his side to make room for her, he watched her as she walked slowly towards him. Despite the confidence in her words, there was still hesitation in her eyes. Now standing in front of the bed, she stopped and looked down at him, as the look in his eyes threatened to take her breath away.

He didn't want to overwhelm her with the rush of emotion inside him, and he tried to keep his face calm. Watching as she smiled nervously at him, he gently patted the space on the mattress beside him. They'd been this close together numerous times now, even fallen asleep pressed together twice, but both of those times it had been after nightmares and breakdowns. They were both currently far more clear-headed than either of those times, and ironically that was what was making this situation more awkward.

As she sat down tentatively on the edge of the bed facing the pillow end, from which he was watching her, bending her right knee towards her, he could still see the combination of awkwardness and nervousness in her face and in the stiff way she moved. He held out his hand to her, perhaps the simplest of gestures, and she reached out to take it, slowly but without hesitation. She seemed to relax slightly then, her smile becoming less tense.

"You can still change your mind," he told her, breaking the silence between them. Once again, she felt a strong rush of emotion, of affection for this man in front of her who was so concerned about _her_ feelings.

 _It's about time he was concerned about your feelings, about_ _ **you**_ , the voice in her head said sarcastically.

 _Hush,_ she told the voice. _That attitude is not welcome here. It doesn't help anything._

Her smile turned less nervous and more genuine then, and she squeezed his hand. "I could," she said slowly, "but I don't want to."

He couldn't help but smile then, because her smile was infectious. Letting go of his hand slowly, she turned and shifted herself until she was under the covers, moving slowly until she was laying down on her side, her face even with his, her right hand laying on what little space still remained between them. It still felt awkward, but less so, as they simply watched each other carefully.

After gazing down at her hand, he covered it with his left, squeezing it gently. This gesture was familiar enough to her by now, and she felt what was left of her awkwardness begin to dissipate. He slipped his right arm behind the single pillow – he hadn't thought to take the other one that was in the far corner of the room with the sleeping bag – just before she laid her head down at her end of that pillow.

"Sorry, I can get the other pillow…" he offered, looking flustered. But she just shook her head, feeling his hand under the pillow brush the back of her neck.

 _No, this will do just fine,_ she thought. Realizing that she hadn't said it out loud, she shook her head. "I can share if you can," she told him quietly, at which he chuckled.

"With you? I think I can handle that," he replied. Now that he could see extra space and evaluate how he was going to settle in the small bed, he lifted their joined hands slightly, rolling backwards slightly onto his back, but scooting closer to her, so that there was no space between his left shoulder and the front of her. His hand was still grasped over hers, and he laid her hand back down over his heart, not letting go of it. She shifted slightly, leaning her body against his slowly, as if evaluating the decision over the course of a minute or so. Finally, she relaxed against him.

The only thing left to shift was her left arm, which was pinned under her side somewhat awkwardly. As she lifted herself and moved it slowly, he seemed to know what she was trying to do, raising his head obligingly as she slid her arm behind his neck. Their heads were now very close together, at opposite ends of the pillow but still close enough that when he turned toward her and leaned forward slightly, it was only seconds before their foreheads were leaned against each other.

"You can still change your mind if you want," he whispered.

"You're kidding, right?" she asked, just as quietly. _Why would she want to do that? She wasn't sure she'd be able to convince herself to_ _ **ever**_ _move from that spot._

"What can I say?" he asked with a slightly embarrassed grin. "I'm a nice guy. I want to make sure you know that if you're not okay, that's fine. I'll move."

"Don't you dare," she told him, tightening her arms where they were.

He chuckled quietly at her. This was definitely a dream, and the best one he'd ever had. It took a lot of effort for him not to utter the three words that sprang to his mind just then. Even if it was the truth, it was too early for that, he reminded himself. Instead, he let go of the hand that was on his chest, wrapping his left arm around her back and moving in slow circles. As his hand moved, he felt uneven skin through her t-shirt, and felt her tense slightly at the contact. His hand stopped immediately, concerned that he'd hurt her. He'd forgotten all about the still-healing scars that had been left on her by Keaton and the CIA.

"Sorry," he breathed out, afraid to move his hand but not wanting to withdraw it from her… unless that was what she wanted. "Do they… hurt?"

She shook her head against him. "A few of them are a little sensitive, but they're getting better," she replied.

"Should I…?" He moved his head back to look in her eyes, not wanting either of them to misunderstand.

Once again, his concern for her well-being, her happiness, overwhelmed her. No matter what had happened in the past, no one could convince her that he didn't care about her. Not when he looked so terrified of hurting her just then. She couldn't help but smile at him, unable to put into words just how she felt about him.

 _Don't lie to yourself,_ the voice in her head said knowingly, y _ou know exactly how you feel about him, even if you think it's too soon_.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, sounding to her as if he was actually in pain himself. "I've done that more than enough for a lifetime already."

That was the moment when she was certain that her heart was about to burst with a combination of the pain she felt on his behalf and the affection that she felt for him at that moment – because how was it possible for a human being to be so damned _sweet_?

"It doesn't hurt," she said in a voice that was barely a whisper. When he looked at her uncertainly, she smiled wider. "I promise. Exactly the opposite, actually."

She leaned forward slowly without another thought and kissed him, forgetting everything around them for a few blissful seconds. It was a slow and fairly innocent kiss, their lips soft against each other, and after a minute she leaned back, wondering if she'd just made things even more awkward than they'd started out.

But he surprised her, looking at her without a hint of discomfort. "You can still change your mind if you want," he whispered again, his eyes filled with absolute sincerity.

The hand that she had been holding over his heart lifted slowly and moved to his right cheek, her thumb moving across his stubble gently as he instinctively leaned into her hand.

"Got it," she said. "And I still don't want to. I like you right where you are."

He smiled back at her warmly, a little embarrassed now. "I won't keep saying it… _if_ you promise me that you'll remember that no matter what happens, it's still true," he said, looking intently into her eyes.

"I promise," she whispered.

"Good," he replied simply. When she stifled a yawn, he chuckled. "I think after the day we've had, we both deserve a good night's sleep. What do you say?" he asked, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand, then turning back to face her as her hand moved back to its previous position over his heart.

"Sounds good to me, as long as it's right here," she replied, already feeling her eyelids fluttering closed. She hadn't even realized how tired she was until just then.

The last thing she remembered seeing before falling asleep was that look in his eyes… she'd seen it before, but had refused to let herself believe that it meant what her brain tried to tell her that it did. After all, it was _impossible_... wasn't it? Except that now, she was finally realizing that it _wasn't_ impossible, that he might actually feel the same way about her than she did about him. With that thought in mind, she couldn't help but smile.

 _Surely, it's not actually possible to be this happy_ , she thought.

He watched as she fell asleep before his eyes, the smile on her face telling him everything he needed to know. "Good night, Jane," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead. It was only another minute before he drifted off to sleep himself, absolutely certain that he'd never been as happy as he was at that moment.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the darkness. For a split second, he didn't even know where he was, which jolted him awake, his eyes widening as he looked around frantically. The details came rushing back to him and he relaxed, now wondering why he'd awoken. Jane was there in front of him, now facing away from him, having turned in her sleep, and his arm was wrapped around her waist. The clock said that it was just after 2:00 am. It only took a few more seconds before he realized that something was off. First of all, the chill in the air reminded him of their time stuck in that freezing cold car…

 _Why the hell is it so cold in here?_ he wondered. Even snuggled under the blankets with Jane, he could feel the cold. His brain was now awake and functioning, and he realized that Jane was shivering slightly. He knew that he needed to get up and check the thermostat, and he wasn't looking forward to it. The first issue, however, would be getting out of bed with Jane firmly tucked between him and the edge of the bed, since his side of the bed was pushed against the wall.

"Jane," he whispered, "I need to go and check the thermostat. I think the heat went out." Without opening her eyes, she scooted away from him slightly, just enough to give him a little room to move. Even so, he had to either pull the blankets all the way off of both of them, which seemed like a slightly cruel thing to do to a still-sleeping Jane, or to climb over her while disturbing the blankets as little as possible.

The less traumatizing of the two options, at least for Jane, he decided, was to climb over her. Of course, this presented its own unique set of challenges, such as, lifting all of his weight over her while not lifting the blankets off of her completely and hopefully not waking her up, at least yet… This was going to be interesting.

Moving slowly, he carefully reached around her. She'd rolled onto her back after she'd scooted over. In a way it made it easier to climb over her, but in another way it was more difficult because he had to stretch farther.

 _And then there's the fact that you're looking straight down at her as you climb over her,_ his mind offered helpfully.

 _Don't start_ , he thought warningly.

He was in mid-climb, his left arm and leg on the left side of her and his right arm and leg on her right, when she shifted. He could only imagine how awkward it would be if she woke up just then, and heaven forbid if she was startled to find him there, which wouldn't have been a surprise to him… Thankfully, he managed to climb the rest of the way over her without waking her up, to his relief, and he stepped onto the creaky floor below, tucking the blankets back around her and pulling a sweatshirt over his head as he padded out of the room.

 _Now where's the thermostat again?_ he asked himself. After all, it had been years since the last time he was even in that house. He knew that it was somewhere downstairs, so he wandered down there and finally found the small box on the wall in the family room. Tapping on a button that made the screen illuminate, and he saw that the temperature in house had dropped to 61 degrees. No wonder it was so cold! Walking a few feet away to the nearest light switch, he flipped it up. As he had feared, nothing happened.

 _Perfect,_ he thought in irritation. With a sense of foreboding, he walked to the window, cupping his hands around his face to try to look outside. He could just barely see outside, since there was no light, but he could see just enough to notice that the snow was still falling quickly in huge flakes. Exactly as he'd feared. It didn't look like they'd be leaving the next day, after all.

In the short term, however, they had bigger problems. It was already very cold in the house, and chances were that the temperature would continue to fall until whenever the heat came back on. He took several logs from their stockpile against the wall and went to the fireplace, setting them up so that he could light a fire and finding the matches in their hiding place on the mantle. Thankfully, the flame took on the first try, and within minutes he felt the heat begin filling the room. Wondering if there were still flashlights in the hall closet, as there had been all those years ago when he'd lived there, he found his way there in the dark and reached up to the top shelf. Sure enough, there was a basket containing three flashlights. He tried each of them, and thankfully they all worked. At least one thing had gone right.

Replacing the basket but bringing the flashlights with him, he walked back upstairs and knocked on Sarah's door. "Sarah," he said, loudly enough that he hoped she would wake up. He didn't _want_ to wake her up, of course, but he also didn't want her to wake up later in a subzero bedroom. He heard muffled noise inside the room, and then a minute later she opened the door, her hair sticking out at odd angles and still half asleep, looking tired, worried and confused all at once.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes only half open.

"Power's out, and the heat," he told her.

"Wow, that hasn't happened since we were kids, as far as I know," she said, shaking her head sleepily. "Are you going to sleep downstairs?"

"Yeah, it's going to be the only warm part of the house pretty soon," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"I'll get Sawyer, and our blankets," she yawned.

"I already started the fire," he told her, to which she nodded. "You might want these," he added, handing her two of the flashlights.

"Thanks, I'll see you down there," she said with a yawn. With that, she turned around to go back and gather as many of the blankets as she could from her bed, and probably put on an extra layer of clothes, too. Kurt turned around and went down the hall to his own room.

After closing the door quietly behind him, for a second he just stood and looked at Jane, snuggled in the blankets of the twin bed they'd been sharing. Glancing at the sleeping bag in the corner of the room, he couldn't help but think how funny it was that they were about to crawl into it for a third time – along with as many of the blankets from the bed as possible, too. Boy was it lucky he'd brought it along.

Walking across the room to the bed, he sat down on the edge and looked at her. Upon closer inspection he saw that she was still shivering slightly, as she had been when he'd gotten up, and he remembered the reason why he had no choice but to wake her up. Smoothing his hand over her hair slowly, he said in a loud whisper, "Jane, sweetheart… we have to wake up." It took a few seconds before her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him in sleepy confusion.

"What's going on?" she asked with concern, scooting closer to him.

"The power's out, and the heat is, too. It's already down to sixty one degrees in here. We need to take our bedding downstairs by the fireplace, it's warmer down there… at least I hope it will be," he added. "It'll be like a big slumber party."

She smiled tiredly, leaning her cheek against his hand. "I've never been to one of those," she said as her eyes drifted closed again.

"Come on, Jane, let's get up and take our stuff downstairs, and we'll go back to sleep by the fireplace. Okay?" he coaxed her gently.

Her eyes opened again, and suddenly she grinned at him. "Wait, so are we sleeping in the sleeping bag again, then?"

"It looks like it," he told her, with the suspicion that his eyes were twinkling at the thought just as much as he could see that hers were. "And as many other blankets as we can fit in there with us, too."

Sighing heavily, now partially awake, Jane attempted to sit up, but fell back down against the pillow in defeat. "I can't do it. Just go on without me… I'm too tired," she declared dramatically, the hint of a smile on her face.

"As if that would _ever_ happen," he whispered, putting his arm around her back and helping her lift herself until she was sitting up. For a few seconds, he pulled her close against his right shoulder, just enjoying holding onto her. As she leaned against him and her arms wrapped around him without a second thought, she began to close her eyes once again.

"Oh no you don't," he said, scooting back so that he could stand up. "I see you going back to sleep. Let's take our things back downstairs so we can go to sleep _there_ , you and me. Okay?"

Pretending to pout sleepily but then grinning as she nodded, she grasped his two hands, which he'd held out to her to pull her to her feet. "Just the two of us and our sleepover buddies, Sarah and Sawyer?" she asked, trying to stand up without falling over.

"Yep, pretty much," he said, handing her the remaining flashlight before leaning over to pick up the sleeping bag and the extra pillow from the floor, then adding the pile of blankets and the pillow from the bed to the bundle he was holding.

"You want me to take anything?" she asked with a sleepy smile. She almost couldn't see him behind all of the bedding he was holding.

"No, I'm good," he said. "Just… don't let me bump into anything major. I can only sort of see where I'm going, and the dark isn't helping. I hereby put you in charge of the flashlight."

"Do we need anything else from up here?" she asked, looking around the room.

"Hmmmm… you might want an extra sweatshirt. And maybe another pair of socks each?" he suggested, trying to think what else might come in handy to keep them warm.

"Got it," she said, feeling more and more awake as she bent down to their respective bags, shining the flashlight inside hers. She had her own things and hesitated over his bag as he stood and waited for her. Again, she felt funny about going into his bag, especially when he was standing right there. "Is it okay if I…?" she started, trailing off when she saw him smiling at her in the faint light of the flashlight.

He felt a surge of affection for her once again, and he wondered how in the world he was as lucky as he was just then. "I don't have anything to hide in there, Jane, go ahead," he told her, smiling encouragingly.

Less than a minute later, Jane had "her" sweatshirt on and they had everything they needed. They headed downstairs, where Sarah and Sawyer were already setting out their things. "Hi, guys," Jane said, stifling a yawn. Sawyer's eyes were only half open, and he barely looked at her. She could have been wrong, but she thought he might have grunted something – she couldn't be sure. He just stood glaring around through half open eyes while Sarah laid down his blankets near the fireplace, off to the side closer to the TV. This left Jane and Kurt the spot where they'd been sitting in front of the fireplace but off to the left, earlier. Sawyer wasted no time, laying back down and pulling the blanket over his head.

"He's not really a good middle of the night person," Sarah whispered apologetically, pulling another blanket over him and then laying down beside him, pulling all of the blankets over herself and whispering, "Good night, guys – _again_."

Jane and Kurt chuckled, both mumbling good night to Sarah as Kurt set down the pile of linens so that he could set them out to maximize their warmth. The sleeping bag went down first, with the zipper side facing the hearth. He laid it out all the way open, laying the blankets from the bed down on top of the full, opened sleeping bag, so that half would be under them and half would be on top of them. After zipping the bottom and the first corner closed, he let the flap lay open and then, bending down to the floor, he motioned for her to join him.

"We already know we fit in here," he whispered when she got close enough to hear him. "Come on." She sat down on the side of the sleeping bag closer to the fireplace, where he'd directed her, handing him his extra pair of socks. They sat beside each other and each put on their extra layer of socks, their arms and shoulders brushing companionably against each other, making both of them smile. When that was done, Jane scooted down into the sleeping back and, not sure which way she should face, lay down on her back. She was on the side closer to the fire, with Kurt on her right, laying on his left side and facing her.

"Can you get the zipper?" he asked, "We don't want to lose any heat if we can avoid it." She looked up to see him leaning on his elbow and smiling down at her with an intensity that made her smile involuntarily. The zipper was down by her feet, so she sat up again and began pulling it up slowly. As she did, he smoothed the top flap down over them, making sure the blankets reached all the way across to her without getting bunched up. Even so, as she leaned back to almost lie down again when the zipper reached her middle, it suddenly got stuck on the fabric along the side. She leaned over, turning on her left side to tug at it with both hands.

"It appears to be stuck," she said, reaching for the flashlight and realizing at that moment that in order to hold the flashlight to find the problem _and_ tug at the zipper, she needed three hands. She huffed in frustration, when suddenly she felt him leaning very close behind her.

"You're going to let me help you with that, right?" he said into her ear in a low whisper, his right arm already reaching over her right side. She wanted to be annoyed with him for being so calm, for seeming to _smile_ at her frustration… except that she looked back over her shoulder at him and saw that he wasn't smiling at her frustration. He was smiling at _her_. "If you hold the flashlight for me, I'll get it unjammed, okay?" His smile was disarming, and she found her frustration melting away in seconds. Sighing, she found herself smiling at him and nodding.

"Okay," she whispered. "Thanks."

She felt his left arm snaking underneath her, and she lifted herself up slightly, propping herself up on her elbow, to make it easier for him. He leaned close in behind her, and she could tell without turning around that his face was just barely over her shoulder. For a few seconds she forgot that she was supposed to be aiming the flashlight at the zipper of the sleeping bag.

"Ready?" he asked, chuckling, once again speaking into her ear softly. She could tell that he was laughing at her for something, but couldn't figure out what. The butterflies were back in her stomach full force just then, and she turned to look at him in surprise.

"For what?" she asked, now completely confused, looking over her shoulder and finding his face _very_ close in front of hers.

Laughing softly, he leaned his face even closer and paused for several seconds, enjoying her confusion more than he knew that he should have, before he whispered, "To hold the flashlight for me… So I can fix the zipper… _please?_ "

She felt herself blushing perhaps her deepest shade of crimson yet, and she was thankful that he probably couldn't really see her very well in the dark.

"Oh, right… sorry," she stammered. "Geez… now who's distracting?" His arms had reached around her on both sides, and he leaned closer to her still in order to, allegedly, reach the zipper with both hands. She held the flashlight still, pointing at where the zipper was caught, looking back at him over her shoulder again and shaking her head. He looked past her to the task at hand, smiling because he could still see her in his peripheral vision, and he could see exactly the effect he was having on her. After a few more tugs, the jam was cleared, and the zipper pulled easily the rest of the way up.

She clicked off the flashlight and reached out to put it down on the hearth, as he brought the zipper all the way to the top of the sleeping bag, then slowly they both relaxed, neither of them moving back to where they'd been before the zipper jammed. Kurt simply pressed himself against her back, his right arm wrapped securely around her waist and his left elbow now anchoring him as he leaned against his left arm, propping himself up for a minute as she settled back against him. Again, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder in the dim light of the fire, and he smiled at her intensely. This time, however, she didn't look away – she _couldn't_ look away – she just smiled right back at him.

It occurred to her then that just maybe, she didn't have to keep feeling like the bottom was falling out of her stomach when he looked at her like that, that maybe she didn't have to imagine how much it would hurt to lose him all over again. That just maybe, _it wasn't going to happen_. This was a powerful thought for her to have, and as scary as it was, the evidence was staring her in the face. Literally.

They'd tucked themselves as far inside the sleeping bag as possible, so that it came up to around their chins. "Are you warm enough?" he whispered, tucking his arm behind the pillow that they were once again sharing and leaning his forehead against the back of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

He'd told her to set the other pillow against the somewhat sharp corner of the brick hearth in case she bumped it in her sleep, so it sat in front of her. Of course, he had no intention of letting her move that far away from him, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Mmmhhmmm…" she sighed tiredly, now slipping back into semi-consciousness once again. "You make a good furnace."

When he chuckled, she could feel the rumble in his chest in hers as well, and it just warmed her further.

"Good night, Jane," he whispered. He was surprised when she turned so that she was almost laying on her back, looking up into his eyes without blinking or looking away. Without even thinking about it, he leaned down and kissed her softly, just once, then leaned back enough to look at her, barely able to see the look of delight on her face in the firelight.

"Good night," she whispered, not taking her eyes off of him. Their eyes remained locked on each other for another minute before she reluctantly turned back on her side as he snuggled just as close behind her as he had been a few minutes before. She put her right hand over his where it had come to rest in front of her as he'd tugged her closer, and she held onto it tightly, as if there was suddenly some danger that he would try to let go.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, fat flakes covering everything with a thick new blanket of white, the wind whipping the snow every direction at once.

Kurt heard her breathing change only seconds later, signaling to him that she had fallen asleep, and he had to smile to himself. No, it didn't look like they'd be leaving in the morning. Instead, it appeared that they'd be stuck in this house so overwhelmingly full of his past for at least another day.

 _But it could be worse,_ he told himself. After all, he was originally supposed to have been here with only Sarah and Sawyer. After the day they'd had, he couldn't even conceive of how he would've gotten through that day without Jane – she was the only thing that had held him together.

He leaned forward ever so slightly to kiss the back of her head. "Thank you," he whispered, so quietly that she probably wouldn't have heard him even if she _had_ still been awake. Another minute later, his eyes were closed and he had fallen asleep as well.


	29. Cold

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

Kurt woke up a few hours later, and couldn't figure out why he was so _cold_.

 _The power's out. The heat is off. You're downstairs by the fireplace, and the fire probably went out,_ he told himself, all before he'd opened his eyes.

 _That's not it,_ the voice in his head kept insisting. _There's something else that isn't right._

As he opened his eyes, he realized that the voice was right. Something _was_ very, very wrong – he was in the sleeping bag by himself.

 _Where in the world is Jane?_ he thought frantically.

Suddenly, his vision tunneled to a narrow line, as a black and white image, the same one that had haunted his thoughts and his dreams for more than twenty-five years, came to life before his eyes. In this vision, he opened the door to Taylor's room, only to find that she was not in her bed, where he'd expected to find her. That was the night that she had gone missing, that his father had—

 _Get ahold of yourself_ , he insisted, _that's not what's happening here. Jane is an adult. No one broke in here and kidnapped her from right under your nose._

He _knew_ this, that it was only in his mind… but as usual, the vision refused to release him.

Half lying in the sleeping bag, half sitting up, he tried frantically to clear his mind. His breathing was uneven and his vision was still clouded to the point that no matter how he tried to break free, all he could see was that fuzzy, black and white scene from years ago… He saw himself, moving through Taylor's house with increasing concern… concern that turned to panic within minutes when he failed to find her in any of the logical places. Or the illogical places. Or her favorite hiding places. She was just… _gone_.

Even before he had given up looking, he had already known that she simply wasn't there. Not because of a bad feeling or because he saw a particular clue or anything like that, but because he knew her, and unless she was in danger, there was just no way Taylor would be hiding. The kid loved people too much to be hiding. She wanted to be front and center, in the middle of the action, all the time.

But it wasn't just that she would not have been hiding if she wasn't in danger. No, the biggest thing that had told him that something terrible had happened was that never – not in a million years – would she have hidden from _him_. Taylor was the girl who would _beg_ to be allowed to stay up late and hang out with him, no matter what he was doing. Even if he was sitting at her dining room table doing his homework, silently writing out endless complicated math problems, she would have sat with him quietly, simply enjoying the chance to be near him, staring at him adoringly, as she had all of her life. He could have been watching paint dry, and Taylor would want to be right there beside him, watching with him. On the nights when her mom was at work, he had to work hard to convince her to go to bed, bribing her with story after story until her eyelids were heavy and she was too tired to argue, literally falling asleep against her will.

Most ten year told boys would have quickly tired of having a five year old girl as their shadow, but not Kurt. He'd never minded spending the extra time with her – far from it. She was the only person he knew, the only person he had _ever_ known, who was so unfailingly devoted to him. Even his own _mother_ hadn't loved him anywhere near that much, as far as he could tell. After all, by the time he was ten she'd been gone for _years_. She hadn't even loved him enough to _stick around_ , much less to crave his attention and his presence. Then there was his father, who was distant and unpleasant on his very _best_ days, and Sarah… well, she was his little sister, annoying him in the ways that a little sister was supposed to. Ways that for some reason, Taylor never did, even though she had been practically just as much of a sister to him as Sarah was.

No, if he'd been calling for Taylor in _any_ tone of voice – with the exception of during a game of hide and seek, maybe – she would have come running, and probably crushed his legs in the tightest hug she could give. And with the increasing desperation in his voice, she would have been attached to his side, begging to know why he sounded so terrified.

But she hadn't been there. Not only that, he'd never seen her again.

At the time, his fear and panic had turned to terror, as he had come to realize that something terrible must have happened, and somehow without leaving a single trace. Each and every one of the subsequent thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of times that the scene had replayed in his head over the years had been worse than the previous one. Though it always seemed that it could _never_ be worse, the next time _always_ was. After that first time, since he knew the ending, the terror grabbed onto him from the first second and didn't let go. It was no wonder that he was still so haunted by that night. What was surprising was that he'd been able to function here, back in this place where it had all began, at all.

 _If not for Jane, I wouldn't have been able to,_ he reminded himself. This brought him back to the present once again, as he again attempted to break out of the spiral in which he was trapped.

 _Where is Jane?_ he thought desperately.

This time, for once, he was finally able to push the vision violently from his head. In all the years he'd been seeing it replay, this was the first time he'd ever been able to force it out. Normally it kept hold of him for hours, even after he stopped seeing the images – the pain in his heart would hold him prisoner for hour after agonizing hour. But not this time. No, this time he had to figure out what had happened to _Jane_. While rationally he _knew_ that it wasn't the same _,_ that it only _felt_ the same, still he was going out of his mind with worry about where she could be, even before he'd been able to make himself stand up to begin looking.

 _You're being ridiculous,_ he told himself. _She's probably in the bathroom._

But in the same way that he'd known that something terrible had happened to Taylor, he just knew that Jane wasn't in the bathroom. There was no stray flashlight beam from the hallway, no sound whatsoever to indicate that anyone or anything in the house was moving at all.

 _Where else would she_ _ **be**_ _?_

Finally sitting up all the way, he scanned the room. Nothing moved, and nothing was out of place. Everything was exactly the same, as far as he could see in the darkness – which wasn't much. Reaching for the flashlight, his hand found only an empty space on the rough brick hearth. It wasn't there! _That_ was the only difference, besides the glaring absence of Jane. _The flashlight was gone._

She had the flashlight with her – she _must_ , he decided _–_ so he could look for the beam. This would help a lot… _if_ she had it turned on. Scanning the room once more, he saw that the fire had nearly burned itself out.

As he stood up stiffly, wondering where in the world Jane would have _gone_ , and slightly less urgently, _why_ , he saw a tiny speck of light out of the corner of his eye. It didn't come from anywhere in the room, or from the next room or the hallway. It didn't come from anywhere in the _house_. The tiny beam of light that he saw flash quickly and then seem to disappear was… _outside._ In the backyard.

 _She's_ _ **outside**_ _? In this weather? What is she_ _ **thinking**_ _?_

 _Maybe she's_ _ **not**_ _thinking,_ he realized. _Jane has more common sense than a lot of FBI agents he'd met in his career. If she was putting herself in that kind of danger – because the snow was still falling fast and hard, and he knew all too well that her boots alone weren't up to the challenge of that much snow, much less how her body would fare in the cold for who knew how long, then something was probably not right. If she was distraught enough to go outside in this, then what were the odds that she was dressed anywhere near warmly enough to be out there in the first place…? It all led him back to his original assessment of the situation:_ _ **Something was very wrong.**_

Jane had woken up about thirty minutes before him, overwhelmed with panic. Honestly, she hadn't expected to have a nightmare as long as she was snuggled together with Kurt, but apparently even his proximity wasn't the guarantee of a peaceful few hours of sleep that she'd thought it was. If it had been, she wouldn't have been there, trying frantically to wake up from whatever dream she'd just had, even as she was nestled in bed with him, his arm draped loosely over her waist. Though it didn't make sense, she almost felt like she had betrayed him all over again by having had such a nightmare in his arms.

 _What are you even_ _ **talking about**_ _?_ the voice in her head demanded, like her still not fully awake.

Her heart had been racing and she'd tried to remember what had just happened to make her feel so tense, so afraid. The pounding in her head had refused to subside, her breathing had refused to slow down, and she simply had to get _out_. Out of the sleeping bag, out of the room, out of the _house_.

 _There's a_ _ **blizzard**_ _happening outside, in case you haven't noticed,_ she'd tried to reason with herself.

But the voice in her head had no luck talking her down. Even as she was still attempting to process what she'd seen and felt – it had been so _real ,_ and so very terrifying - she'd pulled on her boots, the ones that had done so little against the snow the other times that she'd gone outside, and her jacket, which she hadn't even bothered to zip. Nothing else. No hat, no gloves, no scarf, no snow pants, and no concern about any of the things that she didn't have on. Really, it was a miracle that she'd stopped for the boots or the jacket.

For a reason that she wouldn't have been able to explain if she'd been asked, she felt pulled toward the back yard, and once she was there, she simply stared out into the snowy abyss, the house and all traces of civilization behind her, out of sight. She didn't even notice how the wind whipped the snow against her skin until it stung, didn't feel the cold that invaded her with her jacket unzipped, her head, neck and hands uncovered, and her legs protected only by the thin cotton of her pajama pants. Somehow, she felt none of it.

Pieces of her dream came back to her as she trudged through the snow. _Taylor. I_ _ **was**_ _Taylor. And yet I was watching her. I saw what happened to her… as it was happening to_ _ **me**_ _._ It didn't even make sense, and yet, that was the only way she could articulate it, even to herself.

Kurt had never told her exactly what happened to Taylor. Considering the deathbed confession that his father had made, there was really no way for him to ever _know_ exactly what had happened to her, other than the fact that his father had killed her, and buried her in a place where she had always loved to be – was it where they'd gone camping? In any case, it didn't matter that she didn't have any other details. Her mind had supplied those in excruciating detail. After all, she'd seen and done enough horrific things in her lifetime, so imagining them was not a problem.

 _And you can't even remember most of them,_ the voice in her head had reminded her. _Just imagine what else you've done._

 _It's what I deserve,_ she told herself pitifully. _Taylor didn't deserve to die that way_ – the way she had, indeed just watched herself, aka Taylor, being killed – _but I most certainly do._

 _Stop that,_ the voice in her head chided her angrily. _Don't say that. You know that it isn't true._ _ **No one**_ _deserves to die that way, not even Remi. And you are_ _ **not**_ _her. You're_ _ **Jane**_ _._

 _Kurt would be proud of my inner voice for standing up for me that way,_ she thought sadly, suddenly realizing that this inner dialogue only showed how truly disturbed she had become.

Thinking of Kurt only made her heart ache more just then. _Kurt… he shouldn't have to deal with the mess that is my mind,_ she thought in despair.

 _Stop it!_ the voice in her head was now screaming, but she pushed it back as far as she could, where she could barely hear it.

It was freezing outside, she _knew_ this, but she felt none of it. At that moment, the cold that she didn't feel seemed like it might even be a _good_ thing. Maybe the cold would calm her down somehow. Or… maybe that was what she _deserved_ … as proof of just how distraught she was, this idea actually seemed logical.

 _Seriously, what the hell are you talking about?_ she heard the voice in the back of her head, where she'd pushed it, screaming at her in protest. _You_ _ **do not**_ _go outside in the middle of a blizzard, certainly not half dressed the way you are, for no good reason whatsoever! You just_ _ **don't**_ _. No good can come of this! What exactly are you trying to prove, anyway?_

 _What_ _ **am**_ _I trying to prove?_ she wondered, her thoughts drifting for a minute as she was temporarily mesmerized by the falling snow around her.

And yet, she had done it anyway, gone outside in weather that would suggest to any logical person that that was the _last_ thing you should do. _Why?_

Somehow, she felt closer to Taylor out there. Just then, that felt more important than anything, even her own well-being.

" _We had a secret hiding place, in the woods,"_ she remembered Kurt telling her a long time ago, back when he'd thought that she was Taylor. When they both had. " _I thought that if you ever got away…"_ If _she_ had ever gotten away. But she hadn't. She was dead. And she had been for a very, very long time.

Jane stared into the darkened woods, shining her flashlight towards the woods not too far from where she stood in Kurt's childhood backyard. Walking a little farther toward them, she wondered if she could find it. The hiding place.

 _This is not the time to go hunting for their childhood hiding place,_ the voice at the back of her mind shrieked, begging her to see reason. _Turn around and go back inside_ _ **RIGHT NOW**_.

Even though she knew the voice was right, that she should go back, that she shouldn't have been out there in the first place, still she stood at the edge of the woods, hesitating.

 _Kurt will never be able to find you if you wander into the woods,_ she told herself, appealing not to her logic, but her feelings for Kurt. Logic had failed to work, after all. _The snow's falling too fast and too hard, and your tracks will be covered within minutes. You took the flashlight. Do you really want to go somewhere where he has no chance of finding you? What if died out here?_

 _I deserve it,_ she thought miserably.

 _Whether you do or not is irrelevant,_ the voice shouted, not even attempting to appeal to her apparently nonresponsive instincts for self-preservation, instead framing the argument purely around Kurt. _**He**_ _does not deserve to go through life feeling like he failed someone else that he could have saved. Another person that he cares about. You know that he does._

That got her attention, the idea that if she simply disappeared, it would haunt him forever. As strong as the pull of Taylor was at that moment – which she _still_ could not explain – the thought of hurting Kurt by hurting herself was the only thing that stopped her from walking further into the woods.

The cynical side of her recovered quickly from the blow, however. _But he had a funny way of—_

 _Enough!_ the other voice thundered in her head, finally breaking free from the corner she'd pushed it into. _You promised both him and yourself that you weren't going back there, that you were done thinking like that. He's not perfect, and neither are you. None of this is going away. You can move past it, and you will, but take a second and remember that you don't_ _ **want**_ _to do it by yourself. You never did. Now stop being so goddamn stubborn!_

And so she stood there in the snow at the edge of the woods, staring into the trees, turning to stare into the darkness in the direction of Taylor's house for a minute, and then returning her attention to the woods.

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_ she wondered sadly, feeling tears freezing on her cheeks but making no moves to wipe them away.

Feeling both relief and worry at the same time after having located the flashlight beam behind the house, near the edge of the trees, Kurt hurriedly grabbed a few more logs, placing them as quickly and yet as carefully as he could in the fireplace and coaxing the flames back to life. He had a feeling that the fire was going to be an absolute necessity once the two of them got back inside, and besides, Sarah and Sawyer needed the heat in the meantime.

Stumbling towards the front door in the darkness as quickly and quietly as he could without the benefit of light, he had only two thoughts. The first, of course, was that he had to get Jane back inside as fast as possible. Who knew how long she'd been out there already, after all? The other thought that bounced around his head was _why in the world is she outside in a snowstorm, in the dark, by herself, in the middle of the night?_ Jane was a very logical person, and he couldn't imagine what had driven her to make such a choice.

As much of a hurry as he was in, he took a few extra seconds and bundled up as thoroughly as possible. With no heat in the house, he certainly couldn't risk _both_ of them ending up with hypothermia. He grabbed an extra pair of gloves, a hat and a scarf besides the ones he put on himself, shoving them as far into his pockets as they would go. After all, he knew her. He hadn't been able to see her well enough through the window, but he got the feeling that if she was distraught enough to go out there, then she was probably not thinking about dressing warmly. She'd never been very good about taking care of her own basic needs – she seemed to only care about making sure everyone _else_ was alright, seeing herself as unnecessary.

 _Dammit Jane_ , he thought fervently. He was angry with her for putting herself in this kind of danger, and at the same time so very, very worried about her.

Charging outside, Kurt could immediately see how much more snow had fallen since the last time they'd been out there. The "path" around to the backyard through the snow that had been there before was nearly impassible now, and he found himself sinking deep into snowdrifts as he tried to make his way around the house. It had been deep before, but it was far deeper now, making walking quickly almost impossible. The wind whipped his face mercilessly as soon as he stepped away from the house, and his exposed skin already felt raw before he'd even gotten to the side yard. This did not bode well for Jane.

Again, he thought about Jane's short snow boots and how cold her feet and ankles alone must be. With renewed determination, he lumbered as quickly as he could around the corner toward the backyard, hoping against hope that she would be alright when he got to her. Luckily, a little bit of light reflected off the brightness of the snow, because otherwise the blackness of the night would have been complete. More snow continued to fall fast and hard around him, so that he could see almost nothing farther than a few feet ahead. All he could do was make his way toward the back edge of the yard, where he had seen the weak flashlight beam from inside the house. There were no tracks to follow, but depending how long ago she'd walked this way, they could easily have been filled in by the snow that was falling and blowing furiously.

 _Dammit, Jane_ , he mumbled again. His anger was quickly giving over to worry, panic and desperation. He couldn't remember feeling this level of fear since… well, since the night Taylor had gone missing. He stopped in his tracks for a second, feeling dizziness overtake him, but he refused to go back down that road. Not now, anyway.

No, Taylor was long since gone, but he could still help Jane. At least, he was _fairly_ sure that he could. She needed him, he knew. She needed him to be there for her in general, whether or not she wanted to admit it, and she needed him now, at this exact second, to override her lapse in judgement and get her back to safety.

 _Right now_ , he almost yelled at himself. _Now get moving!_

Now suddenly aware of his surroundings once again, he pushed forward through the knee deep snow. Finally making his way around to the back of the house, for a second he thought he saw the faint beam of light through the torrent of snowflakes. He headed in the direction from which he'd seen that light as fast as he could, but it was slow going. Yet again, he shuddered to think how cold Jane must be. Minute after painfully long minute he pushed forward, determined to get to her and terrified of the condition in which he would find her.

 _Please be okay,_ he begged silently.

When he finally reached her after what felt like hours of trudging through the snow, he found her staring into the woods, not seeming to register when he repeatedly and loudly said her name, even though he was standing right beside her. He didn't have any better luck when he moved to stand directly in front of her. It was exactly as he'd expected – she hadn't barely taken the time to protect herself from the weather _at all_ , even less so than he'd thought she would. As he'd also expected, something clearly had her distraught, which was the only possible reason why she'd be out there in weather like that in the first place.

He pulled off his own gloves, dropping them in the snow for the moment, and threaded his hands in her hair, shaking them hard, trying to dislodge as much of the snow from her head as he could, as quickly as he could. Of course, it was a losing battle, considering how hard the snow was falling from the sky, so he did this for only an intense few seconds before pulling the extra hat from his pocket and putting it on her head, knowing full well that whatever snow was already there would melt, and that she would end up soaking wet and freezing. Still, it was better than nothing, and the best he could do at that moment. Her jacket wasn't even _zipped up,_ and he wasted no time in brushing as much of the snow from the front of her as he could before threading her zipper and pulling it to the top.

This whole time he was talking to her – or maybe he was more muttering loudly to himself. "Jane, what were you _thinking_? In the middle of the night? It's _freezing_ out here…" He kept up a steady stream of words, even though it was unclear whether or not she even heard him. She didn't reply, as if she was in some sort of trance.

He wondered fleetingly if she was sleepwalking, but she'd at least taken the time to put on her jacket and her boots… he wasn't an expert, but he didn't think she would have even done that much if she'd been sleepwalking… or _would_ she? He simply did not know, but he couldn't dwell on that just then.

Her jacket now closed securely, he wrapped the extra scarf around her neck and, one at a time, put the extra gloves on her hands. Looking down, he saw that she had nothing on her legs but her thin pajama pants, which made him shiver not from cold, but from fear. It was not nearly enough, and he had no idea how long she'd been out there. She didn't seem to even notice the cold. Besides the rest of it, he knew without a doubt that her short boots were undoubtedly full of snow, as they had ended up the other times they'd been outside, probably even more so. The two pairs of socks that she'd had on earlier didn't stand much of a chance against as much snow as he suspected her boots had already collected.

Still not having gotten a reaction out of her, only a blank stare, despite his many words, he decided to try once more before he took more drastic action to get her back inside.

He hadn't yet put his own gloves back on, despite the numbness he was beginning to feel in his fingers, but he shoved them into his now empty pockets lest they be covered in the snow before he realized it. Stepping closer to her, he put his hands on her cheeks, which he noticed in alarm were even colder than his hands, holding her face in front of his and attempting to get her to look at him.

"Jane," he said. " _Please_ …" It had been his intention to say more, he knew that he _needed_ to say more, but seeing her like this, his voice simply broke by his second word, and he found that he couldn't continue. But it was enough, because suddenly she focused on his face for the first time, and while the look she gave him was heartbreaking, at least she was looking at him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely carrying above the sound of the wind that blew in their faces.

"We need to go back inside, _right now._ We can talk about this once you're warm," he insisted, leaving no room for argument. She nodded sadly, and once again thinking about her poor, frozen feet, he leaned down and, tucking his left arm against her back and his right arm under her knees, simply picked her up, carrying her in front of him. His first thought was how light she was, and he knew that that had a lot to do with her CIA confinement, and her failure to take care of herself since then. He'd ensured that she'd eaten in the past few days, but he also now knew that she hadn't been eating regularly in the months since she'd been back with the FBI.

And that that was partially his own fault, because he hadn't wanted to know… how she was doing, how she was feeling, what she was thinking… none of it. He'd been a first rate asshole and while, yes, he'd had his reasons for feeling betrayed – even valid ones – he'd put all of his energy into hating her, and she had suffered for it. And yes, they'd promised each other that they were past all that. But when it became so blatantly clear that she was undernourished because, in part, of his failure to act like even a decent human being, to say nothing of a friend… it was hard to swallow.

She was disoriented by the surprise of being lifted off the ground, and she struggled for a few seconds. Once she realized what he was doing, however, her panic subsided to merely an annoyed protest.

"Hey, Kurt, put me _down_! I'm fine… I can _walk_!" She looked frantically from side to side, trying to figure out a way to get out of this hold he had around her. Normally, she probably could have done so easily, but she wasn't quite operating at 100% just then.

"You know what? You really are a piece of work," he told her. "Just for once, can you just relax and let someone try to help you?" His words came out with great effort as he carried her through the deep snow, the wind still stinging their faces mercilessly. Realizing that struggling was both useless and only making things more difficult for him, and that he was stubbornly _not_ going to let go of her, she relaxed and simply looked up at him sheepishly.

 _What the hell was I thinking?_ she wondered. _And what must_ _ **he**_ _be thinking of me for going outside in a snowstorm in the middle of the night, especially when we have no heat and no real way to warm back up? What kind of idiot_ _ **am**_ _I, anyway?_

Suddenly she had the urge to crawl into a hole and hide, not wanting him to see her shame or the misery that had led her outside in the first place. However, he was still carrying her, and the only way to hide her face, ironically, was to bury it against his chest – which she did. She was suddenly _freezing_ , feeling the cold for the first time, and only now realized that she was shaking.

As they rounded the front of the house, she felt his face press against the top of her head, and her breath caught in her throat. _Hadn't Kurt been through enough, not just this weekend, but just in general? Why in the world was she making this whole experience this much harder for him?_ She found that she had no answers to explain her behavior, only more questions about why she'd acted so stupidly. Her eyes were squeezed shut against not just the snow and the cold wind but the reality of what she could now only see as her thoughtlessness.

Kurt somehow managed to get the front door open without putting her down, turning to maneuver them through the doorway and then quickly closing the door behind them against the continuing snow. While he knew that the house was uncomfortably cold, at that minute it felt infinitely warmer just because of the lack of wind and blowing snow. He leaned against the inside of the door for a few seconds, still holding her tightly, as they both breathed a sigh of relief before the next flurry of activity began.

However, time was of the essence now, he knew, because all the snow that was on them would start melting quickly, albeit more slowly than it would have had the heat been on. Still, all he knew was that he had to be sure that Jane was alright. After setting her down on her feet gently, he ripped his own gear off and threw it in a pile in the corner, so that he could more easily help her.

Under her hat, which he pulled off of her head, her hair was, as expected, now soaking wet. This would certainly not help with her getting warm, he thought ruefully. He pulled off her gloves and scarf as fast as he could, throwing them behind him with his own, then directed her to sit at the bottom of the stairs. Somehow he was able to ignore the thousands of different and yet similar images of a young Taylor sitting at the bottom of the stairs for various reasons, most of them shoe or boot related, as he pulled off her boots to find that she'd brought in even more snow inside them than he'd imagined. He stripped off her snow covered socks, feeling her feet since he could see them well enough to determine anything, despite the fact that she still held onto the flashlight and tried to shine it where it would be useful to him.

Unable to be sure of anything, he quickly pulled the socks off of his own feet – since his boots had _not_ been full of snow and his socks were therefore both warm and dry – and put them on hers. Surely at a moment like this, the possible weirdness of such a gesture would be overlooked, if she even thought of it at all. He took off his own sweatshirt and then carefully pulled the one she had been wearing over her head, since the front of it had been covered in snow where her jacket had been unzipped, and it was now soaked and freezing. He put his sweatshirt on her and then, hating to have to leave her even for a second, hesitated as he looked at her with concern, crouching in front of her.

His hands went to her shoulders, and their eyes locked on each other. "I'm going to run upstairs and get you some dry pants, and socks, okay? I'll be right back," he promised. She nodded, still looking shell shocked, and simply handed him the flashlight, and then watched as he took the stairs two at a time. While he was up there he also grabbed a towel from the hall closet, another sweatshirt and more of _his_ socks as well, in addition to the items he'd promised her.

Jane sat at the bottom of the stairs, feeling herself shivering from both the cold and from the dream that she couldn't keep reliving, somehow, without even really being able to rememberthe details of it any longer. The terrified feeling that it gave her was more what she was remembering, and the fact that she knew that, in her dream, she had been Taylor when Bill Weller had killed her. Understandably, she couldn't seem to shake the feeling of terror.

What felt like an excruciatingly long time later, though it was actually less than two minutes, Kurt was back by her side again, a bundle of clothes under his arm.

He found her still sitting at the bottom of the stairs, hunching into herself as if she was trying to tuck herself into a ball and disappear. She was now visibly shaking, and he knew that he had to act fast. The first order of business was her pajama pants, which were already nearly soaked.

"Jane, hey," he whispered soothingly. "Can you stand up? I brought you some sweatpants to change into," he held them out to her, ready to steer her to the hallway bathroom not far away. Jane, however, was clearly not her normal self-conscious self, because she simply took the sweatpants from him and stood up, pushing the cold, wet pajamas off of her and stepping into the dry pair.

Kurt tried to avert his eyes, but it had almost happened too fast for him to do so. Even in the near complete darkness, he hadn't been able to help but notice that some of the tattoos on her legs looked different, and he had a feeling that that was thanks to the CIA, just like the scars on her back. The thought made him cringe. _Any_ thought of anyone hurting her made him cringe.

She turned back around and looked at him, and he stepped closer to her, wanting to put an arm around her shoulders but not sure of her mental state, or whether that was something she would welcome just then. He settled for putting his left hand gently at the base of her neck as he steered her back towards the family room, leaving their wet things to be dealt with later. She was still shivering, and he needed to get her near the fire as soon as possible.

Sarah and Sawyer were, thankfully, still asleep when they approached the fireplace, and Kurt quickly pulled the blankets out of their sleeping bag, directing her to sit down on top of it at the end closest to the fire, then wrapped the blankets around her tightly.

He sat down beside her, setting down everything he was holding except the towel, and then rubbing her hair as gently as he could while also trying to get it dry.

As her rubbed the towel against her head to dry her hair, she couldn't help but think about how sweet a gesture it was. Yes, he'd done quite a few other things for her in the past few minutes, not least of them carrying her inside and helping her avoid frostbite and hypothermia. For some reason, however, it was the fact that he was sitting beside her, trying to dry her hair, that made her heart ache. She had caused him so much worry, and he was being nothing but gentle with her.

"I know that Sarah does this thing with the towel where she wraps it around her head, when her hair's wet… I don't know how she does it though. Sorry," he mumbled apologetically. It may have been a trick of the light, but he thought he almost saw a smile on her face then, as she leaned forward slightly, putting her hands up to her head and doing exactly the wrapping thing that he'd been thinking of on her own hair. Apparently it was just something that women knew how to do.

That taken care of, he leaned back slightly so that he was sitting close to her but not quite touching her, watching her carefully and unsure what to do next. Her knees were folded in front of her, her arms wrapped around them tightly, which he could see because of how tightly she held the blankets around herself. Her face was illuminated by the glow of the fire that was not even a few feet away and slightly to the right. Turning his body to face her, so that the fire was now on his right, he watched as she stared into the flames and continued to shiver. He couldn't help but wonder if it was from the cold, from whatever was happening in her head, or a combination of both.

 _Probably both,_ he thought.

Now that he could see her face in the glow of the flames, he saw the tracks down her cheeks that had been left by tears, probably when she was outside. Watching helplessly, he knew that he needed to do something.

"Hey, are you still cold?" he asked, deciding that it was a stupid question the second it left his lips. She certainly _looked_ like she was cold, after all. Turning to look at him slowly, she nodded just enough for him to see the motion, as if most of her energy was going into either getting warm, or dealing with whatever was happening in her head, or maybe _both_ just then, and she couldn't spare any more.

 _You're an idiot, Weller,_ he told himself, remembering the issue of body heat in this type of situation. It wasn't quite as dire as when they'd been in the car and he'd come back inside freezing, since they _did_ have the fire this time, but it was the same idea.

"Jane, come here, let's try something else to warm you up faster," he whispered. Managing to get one end of the blanket from her fist, where she had been holding both ends tightly, he pulled the blanket off of her right shoulder, causing her to shudder violently when the cold air hit her. "Shhhh, I'm sorry," he mumbled. She was already pulled tightly into a ball, so it wasn't too hard to lift her up and set her in his lap, finding the blanket behind his back and then pulling it the rest of the way around both of them securely, high enough up so that it covered half of her face. He turned back to face the fire once again, thankful that they had this heat source this time.

He couldn't tell if she was shaking more now, or if he could just feel it better, since he was hugging her against him, her let side pressed tightly against his chest. Without even realizing it, he rocked slowly back and forth, murmuring softly near her ear, or as close as he could get, attempting to sooth her, but to do it quietly enough that no one else woke up. He didn't feel like launching into an explanation of what had happened just then, and Sarah would undoubtedly have a million questions, possibly more.

Sitting under the blanket together seemed to do the trick, because within a few minutes he already felt her shaking lessen as she began to relax into him, no longer wound up in a tight little ball.

"Hey," he whispered, "does anything hurt? Can you feel all of your fingers and toes?" He felt her breath on his cheek as she _almost_ chuckled at the question, then nodded against him, rubbing her temple against the stubble on his face.

"Yeah," she said in barely a whisper. "I think so."

"Which one is it?" he asked. "Yes? Or I think so?" When she didn't answer immediately, he added, "This is important, Jane. How long were you out there, anyway? You could have frostbite."

She inhaled a slow, shaky breath. "I don't know how long it was," she whispered. "It just…" He couldn't see her face just then, but he felt her shudder against him, and he pulled her tighter. Taking both ends of the blanket in his left hand, he glanced down in front of them, locating one of her hands then taking it gently in his right.

"Okay, so let's be sure we have all fingers and toes accounted her," he said. When she turned her head up towards him enough that he could see the skeptical look on her face, he just shook his head at her. "You're not getting out of it," he told her. "Start counting when you feel me squeeze your finger." She sighed, and she wanted to be slightly annoyed, except that she knew he was doing what he was doing out of an excess of concern, and that he was doing it because _she_ had been stupid enough to go outside in a blizzard more than just a little bit inadequately dressed. He was _worried_ about her. After only a few days, she still wasn't used to having someone who was worried about her.

As annoyed as she wanted to be, she realized that she _liked_ it.

She felt him wrap his fingers gently around her thumb, hardly exerting enough pressure for it to be considered a squeeze. "One," she whispered. As he moved on to each of her fingers, and she counted obligingly, she couldn't get over how gentle he was. He'd held her hand before, of course, but this was different. Her feeling of panic was quickly being replaced with a feeling of calm, thanks to what he was doing.

"Toes now," he said into her ear when he had assured himself that she could feel all of her fingers. When she sighed heavily, wondering if it was _really_ necessary, though not actually saying anything, he leaned down once more and said, "When you wander out in the snow in the middle of the night in a storm, you lose the right to complain about someone fussing over you because you scared the hell out of them." His voice was stern, but once again, under the tone of annoyance, she heard it loud and clear. He'd been worried about her.

 _He_ _cares_.

It made her slightly panicky and simultaneously relaxed to think that it could be possible, even after all the different ways that he had already showed her that he did in the past few days. "Now lift your foot up here," he told her gently, and yet in a voice that said that he was not taking 'no' for an answer.

Shifting until she was basically sitting cross-legged in his lap, she was surprised when he pulled the sock off of her left foot – the sock that had been his to start with. "And no, I'm not taking these off of you because they were my socks and I want it back, or something like that," he chuckled into her ear, "I need to make sure everything feels normal, so I don't want any socks in the way of that." She simply nodded against him again, having already resigned herself to his overzealous protectiveness – which she was finding that she didn't hate. No, she didn't mind at all.

Quite the opposite, actually. Was that a hint of a smile that she felt on her face?

 _It's_ _ **almost**_ _like a foot massage,_ the voice in her head commented, and she felt the corners of her lips creep slightly higher still.

 _I don't remember those,_ she told the voice, _but if this is what that feels like… well, it actually feels kind of cool… I think I might like that._

After Jane had dutifully counted her not-frozen toes for him, Kurt seemed to relax, though he still held onto her tightly. He reached an arm outside their cocoon of blankets, and she shivered when she felt a rush of cold air, "Sorry," he breathed beside her ear, "I had to get you a pair of your own dry socks. They'll fit better than mine."

"And smell better too, I bet," she whispered, and felt the rumble of laughter spread from his chest all the way through her seconds later.

It was a relief to him when she made a joke. Not only did she not seem to have frostbite, and she had now stopped shaking, but she was also acting more like herself. To say that he'd been worried when he'd found her outside was an understatement. A _big_ one. Only now could he finally breath easily again.

He bent down to kiss the top of her head, the towel having been discarded a little while before, after doing its job. Her hair was still damp, but no longer soaking wet.

She felt the kiss on top of her head, and she noticed that his face stayed pressed against her hair. Any second now, he was going to remove it and sit back up, she knew, but she was surprised when he just… didn't. After a few minutes, she started to wonder if she should be worried.

 _You scared the hell out of him,_ the voice in her head reminded her. _You're not seriously going to tell me that you don't know how much he cares about you, are you?_

 _No,_ she thought, now feeling guilt creeping into her mind from all directions. It was a horrible feeling, to know that she'd worried him so much, even if she hadn't done it on purpose. They would talk about it, she knew. If he didn't bring it up, she promised herself that she would. But not yet. Right now, more than anything, she just needed… _this._


	30. I'm Here

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

Even though he knew he'd had his face pressed into her hair for several minutes already, he couldn't bring himself to sit up.

 _Just a little longer,_ he told himself. Now that they were back inside, our of the wind and the snow, and he could process what had happened, it was hitting him just how serious the situation had been, and just how much danger she had been in out there.

Glancing at the fire again, he decided that another log would be a good idea... if he could convince himself to let go of Jane and stand up, of course. He knew that he should, though, because now that Jane was calm and he'd assured himself that she didn't need medical attention, he had a feeling that they'd both be drifting back to sleep soon. Or at least, he hoped they would. They would definitely talk about this… but not now. In the morning.

"I'm going to put another log or two on the fire, and then we're crawling back in that sleeping bag so we can go back to sleep," he told her, speaking into her hair quietly. Not knowing what to say, she just nodded. She still felt cold, and she felt emotionally – thankfully _not_ physically – numb, as well as exhausted and very embarrassed. She would have berated herself for her ridiculous choice of actions, if only she hadn't been so _tired_ – in every way a person can be tired.

Finally working up the willpower to move, he gently lifted her off of his lap, setting her down on his right side and then slid out of the blankets as carefully as he could. When he handed her the end so that she could wrap it back around herself as he stood up, he was already regretting his decision to move away from her, even though he knew that he had no choice. With two more logs now set on the fire to keep it going for quite a while, he crouched back down beside her.

"Do you need to lay out the blankets first again?" she asked quietly.

He nodded, and said, "Yeah, but not until I unzip the sleeping bag, though." He stood up, stepping off of the sleeping bag, and then held out his hand to help her up as well. Once she was standing off to one side, he unzipped the sleeping bag, unfolding it all the way, and stood up again. Standing close to the fire to keep as warm as she could, she handed him the blankets, which he quickly spread out and then motioned for her to lay down.

"Go ahead, you go first this time," he told her. She obligingly lay down on the inside of the fold, facing the fireplace, watching him as he sat down beside her, pulling the zipper up on the sleeping bag and gradually laying back as the zipper went higher, then carefully turning around to face her once it was closed.

After dealing with logistics for the past few minutes, now that they were both there, face to face once again, they just looked at each other. His expression was both stern and gentle at the same time, and she suddenly thought that maybe she would have to at least partially explain herself now, instead of waiting for morning. She supposed she owed him that much, but even so, she felt a knot forming in her stomach. The problem was that she simply didn't know where to start.

However, before she could say anything, he surprised her. Instead of asking for any kind of an explanation, which would have been perfectly within his rights to do, he asked simply, "Are you okay?" They were facing each other, and he reached his left hand up and pushed a strand of hair behind her hear, then moved his hand slowly to where her right hand rested in front of her, taking it in his and intertwining their fingers.

"I just…" she started, but that was as far as she got before her eyes closed and the words refused to come. A heavy sigh escaped her, and suddenly she had no explanation for her behavior. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It was stupid."

"You didn't answer my question," he told her evenly, his voice soft. When she looked up, she saw that he was still looking at her, now with even more concern than before.

Her eyes darted away, and she nodded, but it didn't look like she really meant it. "I had a dream," she said, so softly that he leaned forward to hear her better, finding their foreheads leaning against each other without having even meant to do so. He'd assumed that it had been something like that, but he couldn't figure out what kind of dream had made her think that going outside at night, in the middle of a blizzard, barely dressed, was a good idea.

"I was Taylor. I mean, I know that I'm not… but in my dream, I was…" Her face drew up in frustration, and she shook her head. "It's like I _was_ her but also watching her _and_ pretending to be her all at the same time, which I know doesn't even make sense…" He pulled their joined hands toward him, resting the back of hers against his chest over his heart. Despite the several layers of clothes, he hoped that she could still feel his heartbeat that way. He had a strong suspicion that she would remember what it meant.

She smiled at the gesture, but it was a pained smile. She opened her mouth to say something else, but then closed it again, her eyes closing and, if he wasn't just seeing a trick of the firelight, a few tears leaking out just before her head dropped forward, attempting to hide her face.

"Ssshhhh… come here," he said, releasing her hand so that he could wrap his arm around her. In one way, he certainly knew what she was going through, after as many years of anguished dreams about Taylor as he'd had. He was still so overcome with relief and concern, and all he could think of was reassuring her.

"Just promise me one thing," he said, leaning his face against her hair, her face now tucked into the crook of his neck. He couldn't help noticing that her hair was now only damp, not soaking wet as it had been before. "No more going outside in the middle of the night by yourself. If something exciting's happening outside, let me at least come with you." He'd tried to keep his tone light, but suddenly the anguish flooded his voice again. "When I woke up and you were gone…"

Of course, she'd been so distraught, so stuck inside her own head that she hadn't stopped to think about the fact that he would, _of course_ , have flashbacks of Taylor's disappearance when he couldn't find her anywhere. This only made her feel even worse than she already had.

"I'm sorry," she said once again, leaning back to tilt her head up and look him in the eyes, feeling miserable at the thought of how panicked he must have been. "I didn't even think about that." It was his turn to nod slowly then. He was only now finally calming down from the fear and anxiety that he'd felt when he'd found her missing, and then as worried as he'd been when he'd found her outside in the snow.

His goal hadn't been to make her feel guilty, of course. "I want to talk about this more, but for now… let's get some sleep," he said soothingly. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered, her eyes already closing. "No more going outside, I promise," she added, her voice barely making a sound. She felt him kiss her forehead, and she couldn't help but smile.

Her face had still looked sad, despite the smile that had crossed it after he'd kissed her on the forehead. He continued to watch her for a while, unable to convince himself to close his eyes despite how drained he felt. It wasn't that he didn't trust her not to suddenly leave again – he'd believed her when she'd promised not to go back outside. It was just that the fear of waking up to find her gone once more – as irrational as he knew that it probably was – kept him awake long after she'd fallen asleep again. Eventually, however, even he was able to close his eyes as well.

What felt like about five minutes later, Jane was suddenly blinking awake in a room full of sunlight. After being woken up in the middle of the night not once but twice, having had a terrifying nightmare _and_ her little walk in the snow, morning had really and truly come _much_ too early. Her eyes blinked open to find Kurt's arm wrapped around her waist tightly from behind her. She took a deep breath, the events of the night before flooding back to her just a little too quickly for her liking, and she felt the combination of exhaustion, guilt, embarrassment and shyness that she'd felt the night before return right along with those memories.

Turning slowly to look over her shoulder, she found Kurt looking straight at her, his face appearing just as bone tired as she felt. And yet, even though he wasn't exactly smiling, there was something else in his expression… something… _peaceful_ was the only word she could find to describe it. Something in his eyes made her smile, despite the fact that she sort of felt like she'd been run over by a bus.

 _He loves you, stupid,_ the voice in her head said, the tone implying that it was the most obvious thing in the world. _Which is not really news to anyone but you, of course… And since you love him, too… Well, that seems to work, doesn't it?_

 _Maybe…_ she thought, storing that thought away for later. She wasn't quite sure if she actually believed it. Sure, you could argue that there was evidence, but…

 _Maybe you're just not_ _ **ready**_ _to believe it,_ the voice told her, a little more gently, leaving her with that thought to ponder.

She shifted slowly, rolling over as best she could to face him. The next thing she noticed was that she smelled something. Was that—?

Sarah's voice floated through the air, and while she was obviously trying to be quiet, Sawyer kept replying to his mother just a little bit too loudly to ignore.

"Good morning," Kurt said in a voice even lower than a whisper. He wasn't quite ready to reveal to his sister that they were awake yet, and Sarah and Sawyer couldn't see their faces from their angle. If they were _very_ quiet, they might be able to manage to have another few minutes to themselves. Jane smiled back at him, looking completely exhausted. Her eyelids had only opened halfway so far, and she didn't look like she was quite herself yet.

"I think the power's back on, which means we can either get up and eat breakfast, _or_ … we can go back upstairs and go back to bed. What do you think?" he asked, again in barely a whisper, studying her tired face from close up and smiling in fascination. The night that they'd had hadn't been what he'd consider a good one, but the fact that he'd gotten to fall asleep and wake up with her beside him multiple times… that was certainly a silver lining. She looked tired and grumpy and overwhelmed by the events of the night… and she still looked beautiful.

"Mmhhmm," she murmured, not quite ready to form words. Then, trying to force a coherent sentence out of her mouth, she whispered, "I don't suppose you're willing to carry me back upstairs? Or is carrying only for when I go insane and find myself knee deep in a snowdrift that I'm nowhere near dressed for?" It was a joke, of course, and one at her own expense. She was attempting to make light of her actions the night before, since she was thoroughly embarrassed and ashamed, and she didn't know how else to deal with it. It wasn't that she thought he'd agree to it, but at that moment not having to walk up the stairs really did sound good – it had been worth a shot.

He chuckled quietly, then smiled at her and said, "I should probably carry the _blankets_ , so that when we get up there, we can go back to sleep. Because I think I could use a few more hours… what about you?"

Just then she yawned loudly and unexpectedly, clapping her hand to her mouth in surprise. "I'll take that as a yes," he said, pressing his nose against hers for just a second before slowly leaning away from her just an inch or so and focusing intently on her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly serious. "After last night…"

Looking down and taking a deep breath, she felt all of her emotions suddenly rising to the surface at once, and she didn't realize she was shaking her head until she felt his hand on her cheek and felt the sensation of the movement against his skin.

He regretted asking her if she was okay, because it only seemed to agitate her, but he really did want to know whether she _was_ okay. It occurred to him how much of the trip he'd spent in his own head, focused on his own pain, and so much less aware of what she must be feeling. His feelings were valid, here of all places, of course, but he suddenly felt that he'd been behaving very selfishly. Silently, he promised himself that he would do better.

"Ssshhhhh, hey…" he said soothingly, now wishing he hadn't contributed to her seemingly more agitated state. His goal had been exactly the opposite, after all. Once again, as he had so many other times, he wrapped his arms around her and held on.

It was almost as though she wasn't even in control of her reactions to stimuli anymore. She felt herself shaking at the thought of the previous night, despite the fact that she told herself very firmly to stop and get ahold of herself. Of course, that was easier said than done for most people, but Jane prided herself on being able to push her emotions aside – it had been a matter of survival in the months when the CIA had held her, after all. Now, suddenly, it wasn't working anymore.

No, it seemed that there was an unfamiliar disconnect between her mind and her body, which didn't seem to be communicating just then. Her mind felt numb, and she was only vaguely aware of Kurt's voice, but not of what he was actually saying. She attempted to focus on one thing and one thing alone – the fact that he was now holding onto her tightly once again.

 _See? It's okay,_ the voice in her head told her, uncharacteristically kindly. She silenced everything else, and just repeated that line to herself over and over until she had gradually relaxed again.

Jane's sudden reaction seemed to get worse before it got better, and when he felt her start to shake in his arms, it just made him hold on tighter to her, murmuring quietly in her ear without even really knowing what he was saying.

Slowly, that seemed to work. She eventually relaxed against his shoulder, still not looking up at him but seeming okay otherwise. He almost didn't hear her when she whispered, "Sorry," once again – it was _that_ quiet.

He leaned his cheek against her forehead and replied, as close to her ear as he could, "You'd better not be. I don't want you to get in the habit of apologizing for things you should _not_ be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong. You always put so much pressure on yourself, and you don't have to. It's okay. It's going to be _okay_."

The sincerity in his voice made her eyes water. "No, I _did_ do something wrong. I scared the hell out of you and I feel terrible about it," she said miserably.

"Did you do it on purpose?" he asked her kindly, already knowing the answer. He leaned back again so that she could see on his face just how seriously he meant what he was saying.

"No, of course not," she replied. "I just…"

"Then let it go. We're both okay, thankfully. You _did_ scare the hell out of me, because I…" He thought about saying it, but it had _still_ only been a few days, despite what it felt like. "…I care about you. A lot. I don't like to think about what I would do without you."

"You'd be alright. You did just fine the past few months, after all." It had slipped out before she knew what she was saying, and her eyes went wide with surprise and horror at her own words as she watched them sink in. She saw him wince slightly, and she wished more than anything that she could take them back. "I'm sorry, I… don't know why I…" she stammered quickly, now feeling even worse.

 _Dammit!_ she thought. _What's the matter with me?_ She could feel her face crumbling and her insides suddenly felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. _Stop it!_ she wanted to scream in her own face. Feeling like all she'd done so far since waking up was apologize, only to make things worse, she felt her face fall, and she looked back down, not wanting to look him in the eye.

Her words caught him off guard, and he could admit that they wounded him just a little, but he deserved it, and he knew it. He couldn't hold any of it against her. The fact that he _hadn't_ been fine those past few months wasn't something that he could expect her to know, and _he'd_ been doing a hell of a lot better than _she_ had while he'd been treating her like the enemy.

"I wasn't fine," told her quietly, looking at her to find her watching him with eyes overflowing with guilt. "I treated your horribly, I know. Maybe it seemed like I was fine, but…" he shook his head. "That's part of the reason the thought of something happening to you scared me so badly. Because now I've finally realized that I wasn't anywhere near okay without you. I don't want to be that person. Not again."

She sighed heavily, shaking her head, now even more overwhelmed than she'd been when she'd woken up. It was simply too much to process.

His hand had been laying still on her back for a while now, and she'd almost forgotten it was there. When it started moving slowly in circles, for a second she was surprised. Once again she felt herself slowly relaxing, until finally she glanced up at him and smiled, looking into his hopeful eyes.

"Let's get up, so we can go upstairs and go back to sleep," he told her, turning slightly so he could kiss her forehead. Feeling a tug at her heart, she nodded tiredly. At least she knew that if she didn't open her mouth, she couldn't put her foot in it again.

He released her so that he could shift position and reach behind him to unzip the sleeping bag. They both sat up slowly, and when Kurt managed to get to his feet first, he helped Jane up as well, then scooped up the sleeping bag full of linens and pillows.

"Good morning, you two," Sarah called from the kitchen as they walked slowly in her direction on their way to the stairs. "Rough night?"

"You could say that," Kurt replied, his arms around the large bundle of covers. He wanted two things just then – to get upstairs with minimal conversation with Sarah, and to somehow make contact with Jane, which unfortunately he couldn't do because his arms were full.

"Did you guys go _outside_? Because I found a whole bunch of your wet hats and scarves and stuff… I stuck it all in the dryer, now that the power's back on again," she told him, looking confused.

"Oh, thanks. Yeah… that's… a long story. Or, longer than we're ready to tell just now," Kurt said. "We're just going to go upstairs and go back to sleep."

Sarah chuckled and shook her head. "Yeah, Sawyer did that, too. I really thought he was going to want breakfast, but no. He was _seriously_ grumpy when he woke up down here – not too long ago, actually," she told them. "Though of course, I very much appreciate the fact that you woke me up so that we could sleep down here and not freeze in our rooms," she added quickly. "It wasn't as much of a party as it was when we were kids, but I do still prefer not to freeze to death in my sleep."

"Any time," said Kurt. "We'll see you in a few hours."

With that, they started walking toward the stairs again, with Sarah noticing just how close Jane was sticking to Kurt's side. It really was sweet. The poor girl looked like she hadn't slept at all, and Sarah wondered why in the world they'd been outside. She'd have to follow up on that with Kurt later, if she could get him to answer. That was the problem with having an FBI agent for a brother – it was almost impossible to get him to answer a question if he decided he didn't want to answer it.

Somehow they made it back upstairs, and Jane wandered into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her inside the bedroom a few minutes later, Kurt had discarded the sleeping back in the corner of the room once again, and was in the process of spreading the blankets back over the bed. He had just finished up, folding back the corner for them to climb in, and he watched as Jane nearly fell back into the bed, curling up on her left side facing the wall, trying to block out the light.

He chuckled at how cute she looked, then slipped out of the room into the hall. When he returned from the bathroom a minute later, he wasn't sure whether she'd already fallen asleep. After pulling the curtains more tightly closed on the window, he walked over and joined her in the bed, curling up behind her and smiling when she leaned back slightly against him.

"Still awake?" he mumbled into her hair.

"Mmmmmm," he heard her say without turning around. He couldn't help but smile. At this point it seemed like there was nothing she could do that he wouldn't find adorable. "Nope. Please leave a message at the beep." She was quiet then, and he just waited in amusement.

"Well?" he asked her a full minute later.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"I'm waiting for the beep so I can leave a message," he replied with a grin. He could hear her laughing quietly and she swung her hand at him playfully, without turning around, but missing completely as he ducked out of the way.

"Go to sleep," she told him. "I'm so tired I think I'm delirious."

"Really? I hadn't noticed. You always act like this…" he told her, wondering if he was going to have to duck again. He hadn't been able to help himself though.

"Shut up!" she told him, still not turning around, and unable to control her laughter anymore.

Scooting closer behind her, he whispered, "If I promise to be quiet, can I stay right here with you?"

She felt the familiar flip flop in her stomach, and she knew a goofy smile had broken out across her face. Finally opening her eyes and glancing over her shoulder at him, she felt her heart melting yet again. The expression on his face was stiff competition for even the cutest puppy dog face.

"Yes, please do. Now sleep," she said, feeling her eyes close yet _again_. Even though it was morning, she was counting it as the fourth time they'd gone to sleep that night, and she was hoping that they would get at least a few more hours without yet _another_ reason to have to wake up.

Just before she turned back around all the way, he kissed her cheek and then watched as her smile intensified, even with her eyes already closed. "Good night, _again_ ," he whispered into her hair after she'd turned around, his right arm around her waist, closing his eyes as well.

It was indeed several hours later, even though it felt like much less, when Jane began to regain consciousness. She was still groggy, but felt less like she'd been hit by a bus this time. The blankets were partially blocking her face against the light, and she wondered what it was that had awoken her. Laying still for a few seconds and taking in the status report from her senses, still not opening her eyes, she slowly became aware of a slight tickling sensation at the base of her neck, where it met her back.

She lay there for a moment, following what she realized had to be Kurt's finger moving gently across her skin, and realized that he was tracing the shape of the oil derrick tattoo. It was the one that came up the highest, peeking above the neckline of her shirt. Not wanting to be the cause of him stopping that particular movement, she attempted to lay perfectly still, unwilling to admit that she was awake for fear of deterring him.

"Good morning." His voice filled her ears and it made her smile, despite her disappointment that he'd figured out that she was awake so quickly.

"Good morning," she replied, rolling backwards slightly to look at him, and was rewarded when the fingers of his left hand brushed softly along her cheek. "I was trying to stay very still so you wouldn't know I was awake. I didn't want you to stop what you were doing."

"What? This?" he asked, putting his right hand on her right shoulder to push it forward a little more, the way she'd been laying before. This gave him better access to her back and, and he began tracing the same tattoo again.

 _You know, you have_ _ **lots**_ _of other tattoos he could trace. They could keep him busy all day,_ the voice in her head whispered naughtily.

 _You hush,_ she thought immediately. Of course, it was the truth… but that was a little farther ahead than she was ready for. Than _they_ were ready for.

Though she had forced the thought as far from her mind as possible, after it had occurred to her, she couldn't help but wonder if it had also occurred to _him_. Rolling onto her stomach – which she wondered if she was doing defensively, as a reaction to her rogue thought – and folding her arms under her head, she opened her eyes slowly and turned her head towards him. But there was no sign of anything but adoration on his face as he smiled back at her, and she relaxed once again.

She'd tensed slightly after he'd started tracing the oil derrick tattoo for the second time, and he wondered if something about what he was doing or the tone he'd used had been a little too much. He certainly hadn't meant anything by it, but this was uncharted territory, and with so much to work through, he knew that it was possible. But she'd said that she liked it, so he simply kept doing what he was doing, moving his fingers over the ink that was visible above the neckline of her shirt. It was both intimate and innocent at the same time.

Had he _thought_ about the fact that that particular tattoo continued down her back, and of the hundreds of others on her body? It would be a lie if he said that he hadn't. After all, he'd seen them enough times to be almost as familiar with them as she was, and some of the ones that were in places she couldn't see as easily, maybe even more so.

But did that change anything? Not at all. He was perfectly content with what he was doing, tracing the small patch of tattoo that he could see above the neckline of her shirt. The rest of them… well, not that he didn't love the idea, of course, but he loved _her_ far more than that. It was strange to think now that he hadn't been able to see that before, when it was so obvious now.

When she turned onto her stomach, he was fairly sure that her mind _had_ gone exactly where he thought it had, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He certainly didn't want her to feel like she had anything to worry about, not even a little bit. So when she turned to face him and there was an almost shy look on her face, he focused on her with his most sincere smile, his fingers continuing their lazy movements. It wasn't an act, after all, so it wasn't difficult, and he saw the muscles in her face relax as she smiled back at him.

His left cheek lay against the pillow, his left arm folded underneath it, and he continued to watch her as she closed her eyes again. "Please don't tell me we have to get up again," she mumbled.

He chuckled quietly. It _did_ seem like they were constantly having to get up almost immediately after having woken up, but not this time. "Not unless you're hungry," he said. "And really, in that case only one of us would _have_ to get up."

"I'd rather we both stayed right here for now," she said softly, her eyes still closed.

"I can live with that," he told her. "I'll bring you breakfast in bed another day."

 _Did he really just_ _ **say**_ _that?_ she wondered.

He swore he saw her blushing then, even though half of her face was pressed into the pillow. His statement _had_ rather boldly declared his intention to find himself in bed with her on at least one future occasion, he supposed, upon reflection. It was just something that had come out of his mouth, without stopping to consider how it may sound to her ears. And yet, after this weekend, wasn't the possibility of them ending up in bed together again pretty much assumed? He liked to _think_ so, after all…

 _In your mind, yes,_ the voice in his head replied, _but you already know that she's a little skittish thinking about how things are going to be when you go home. She's not going to assume something like that. In her mind, that would be setting herself up for potential disappointment, and she has learned not to expect things from people. Even you. No,_ _ **especially**_ _you. That's what the team taught her in the past few months. That none of you cared about her._

The thought hurt, but he knew that it was the truth. That _was_ indeed what they'd taught her… and now he was going to change that. He liked to think that he'd already started to change it, and that the rest of the team had as well.

"I need to check the weather report today," he told her casually. "See how long this storm is supposed to last. Because no matter what's happening in New York today, there's no way for us to get back there. They couldn't even send a helicopter for us if they wanted to. Not in this." She just nodded, her eyes still closed. "And I suppose I'll have to call in and let them know that we won't be in today… or tomorrow."

Her eyes opened then, as she thought about what he was saying. "Were you planning to go into the office today?" she asked curiously. They'd never discussed the "after the weekend" logistics, only that the plan was to go home on the 26th.

"Well, it's not a long drive in _good_ weather, so when I wasn't factoring in a storm I didn't think it would take all day to get home, and I figured I'd go in once we got back. Just to see what was going on. Maybe just for a few hours," he told her.

"Well, I guess that's not happening," she replied, not the least bit upset that their weekend had been extended. She liked her job, working with him every day and saving the world, as they'd joked in the past. But she'd just discovered that time off could actually be enjoyable, and not just empty. You just needed the right person there with you.

"Yeah, I guess not," he chuckled. "And it's not looking promising for tomorrow, either," he added. "Even _if_ it stops snowing, there's the roads to worry about. Of course, out this way they're pretty good at dealing with snow, since they get a lot of it. Still, even if they get it cleared, we'll probably need to take the drive slower than the GPS thinks we can get there…" He paused for a few seconds, his fingers still moving across her skin, but leaving the tattoo to trail up her neck, which made her shiver. "But we'll deal with that when we see what things look like. Later… when we have clothes on."

She bit her lip at how that sounded, opening her eyes a little bit wider than before to look at him.

He grinned at her mischievously, winking, then pulled his face into an innocent _what did I say?_ face. "What? We're wearing pajamas, aren't we? Well, I mean, I guess you _did_ end up in sweatpants, which are not technically pajamas, but… Pajamas are considered different than _clothes_ most of the time, right? So I'm not wrong when I say 'Later… when we have clothes on.' Right?" Shaking her head at him, she couldn't help but laugh as he grinned at her. Then, to clear up any confusion, he added, "Don't worry, that doesn't mean I'm going to be referring to 'the time when we _didn't_ have clothes on.' At least… not in front of anyone else."

Lifting herself off of her arms for a second, she moved her left hand to try to swat at him playfully, because he was pushing it and he knew it. It was all to get a reaction out of her, but she didn't mind giving him one… not when she felt this happy.

"Good to know," she replied, shaking her head at him and then laying back down against her folded arms – that little bit of her self-preservation instinct still intact, still keeping herself safe.

His right hand moved back down her neck and came to rest flat against her skin where the top of the oil derrick tattoo was, the one that he'd now traced so many times in a row. His thumb came to rest on the left side of her neck and his other fingers on the right side, his arm simply laying down the center of her back. She couldn't have explained why, but the gesture felt like a promise of some kind. _I'm here_ , it said to her somehow. _Beneath the playful teasing, I hope you know that I'm here for you._

For a moment, she was overwhelmed by the emotion she felt, and the smile that spread across her face felt inadequate, even though it was so wide that it seemed possible that her face might crack open from the force of it. "I could get used to this," she murmured, only realizing afterwards, to her embarrassment, that she'd said it out loud and not just in her head.

At first she was flustered by her mistake, but up on reflection, there was really nothing to be embarrassed about. Being there with him, feeling so completely happy… she _could_ get used to it. It was the truth, after all, so why shouldn't she tell him? She just wasn't used to making such admissions – especially after spending so long telling herself that she _didn't_ need anyone else. She could now see just how untrue that had been. She'd told herself that she didn't need anyone, even believed it… because it hurt just a little less when no one was there for her. But that hadn't made it _true_.

Just then, his stomach rumbled loudly, and he glanced at the clock on the other side of the room. "What time is it?" she asked curiously, suddenly realizing that she was hungry as well.

"Almost noon," he replied. "We may actually need to get up soon. If nothing else, we _will_ need to eat."

Sighing melodramatically, she started to turn slightly onto her right side to face him, feeling his arm on her back tighten and pull her slowly towards him.

"What do you think?" he asked her, "Can you make it through another day here?"

"Can _you_?" she asked him without missing a beat.

"I think I can," he replied without looking away.

"You mean _we_ can," she corrected him, their faces once again very close together.

"Right," he agreed, " _we_ can." He leaned forward and kissed her, his right hand moving up her neck into her hair, making her scalp tingle where his fingers made contact.

His stomach growled again loudly again, and they broke apart, both laughing, finally accepting the fact that they would have to get up. They started with sitting up, yawning and stretching briefly before he swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his feet on the floor. Once he stood up, he again offered his hand to Jane, helping her up.

"Such a gentleman," she said as she let him pull her up to her feet. She swore she saw a twinkle in his eye just then.

Of course she couldn't know how much he'd appreciated that comment. He liked to think of himself that way, especially when it came to Jane. He'd done so many things wrong with her, and he owed it to her to do things right as much as he possibly could.

Encouraged by her comment, in an exaggerated gesture he leaned down, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips to plant a kiss on the back of her hand, his eyes darting up to meet hers just as his lips touched her skin. While she rolled her eyes and laughed, she also felt herself blushing once again… it seemed that she blushed quite frequently around him, and there was no sign of it letting up.

Just then, they heard another angrily growling stomach, but this time it was hers, not his.

"Come on," he said, keeping her hand in his and tugging her toward the door. "Time to eat." Then, turning around to stand in front of her mischievously and lowering his voice, even though there was no one else there with them, he added, "And put on clothes, eventually…" He winked at her, alluding to their earlier conversation, and she smacked him gently on the arm with the hand that he wasn't holding.

"You never stop, do you?" she asked.

Even more amused now by the familiar words, he raised his eyebrows playfully at her several times before replying, "I guess I don't. Just like someone else I know." And then finally, they made their way downstairs in search of something to eat. There was still a lot to talk about… but food came first.


	31. Complicated

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: I didn't mean for this chapter to get so long, but I couldn't split it. Therefore, you may want to have a snack handy for this one, because I know it's long… but I hope you enjoy it. :)_

He'd warmed up some soup for them – something full of noodles and vegetables, though she didn't actually know what kind it was – and they'd eaten it along with ham and cheese sandwiches that Jane had proudly made. They sat at the table beside each other, eating quietly. The silence was both comforting and awkward, since – despite how much there was to talk about – neither of them quite knew what to say. There was no guarantee of privacy, sitting there in the kitchen, anyway. Still, it wasn't an _uncomfortable_ awkwardness between them. The one big thing they had in common at that moment was that they craved the other's presence, despite the slight uneasiness. As proof, their chairs sat pressed together, just as they had at every meal they'd had there.

Sarah seemed to have disappeared back upstairs, possibly to take a nap after getting up so early on the heels of last night, and Sawyer was similarly nowhere to be seen. The house was quiet, and it almost felt as if they were there alone. After the night they'd had, and how tired they both still were, the silence was music to their ears – the thoughts they were both having were still thunderously loud, after all, so the lack of noise around them helped to balance it out.

Despite having thought that she was desperately hungry, Jane ate not even half of the soup that he'd given her and less than half of the sandwich that she'd put on her own plate. She looked down at the food that was left in front of her and sighed. When she wasn't careful, even her lack of a real appetite was discouraging to her. After all, it was just another one of the lasting, obvious reminders of her CIA imprisonment. It might not be as bad as the scars on her body, but in another way it was even harder to disguise. It felt as though the scars – and not just the physical ones – would never go away.

"You did pretty well with that," he commented, noticing that she seemed to be looking at the food remaining in front of her with hostility. She glanced up at him with a hastily forced smile before glancing away, but even as much as she'd tried not to let him see it, he'd noticed that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Seriously," he added.

"Do you want the rest?" she asked, attempting to keep her voice steady, to pretend she didn't feel so horribly self-conscious about her lack of appetite and to avoid having to think or talk about how much it bothered her that she ate so little any more than she had to.

"Only if you're sure you don't," he told her.

"I'm sure," she affirmed, sliding her plate over to him.

"Well, if it'll help you out…" he said with a grin.

"Yes, _please_ , destroy the evidence that I can't even eat a normal amount of food, ever since…"

 _Dammit._ She really hadn't wanted any of that to come out of her mouth, for him to know just how much it bothered her.

 _Why not?_ she asked herself. _You know he only wants to help you._

She had managed to stop herself from completing her sentence, but she suddenly felt completely defeated. It wasn't just one thing – her life had never been that simple. At that moment it felt like the weight of all of it fell on her shoulders, and she sighed heavily, closing her eyes.

She didn't _want_ to talk about it, and now she would have no choice but to do just that. Really, she just wanted to forget.

 _Forgetting hasn't really been going that well so far, though, has it?_ the voice in her head asked.

 _Shut up,_ she told the voice in annoyance. _I'm doing my best._

 _Give him a chance to help,_ the voice coaxed her.

Now understanding better what her discouragement was about, he slid the plate away from him and turned toward her, laying his left arm along her shoulders and finding her right hand with his. "Jane," he said calmly, even though inside he had just gone from calm to anxious as if someone had flipped a switch. "It's been… what? A few days? Since you've really been eating regularly, I mean…"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. _Because you've been making sure of it,_ she thought, looking up at him.

"Everything you've been through…" He pushed away a wave of guilt, knowing that a lot of it was his fault. _That won't help her now_ , he reminded himself. "It all takes time. You're getting there. And you don't have to do it alone. You know that, right?" She nodded, her eyes now open but looking down at such a sharp angle that they almost appeared closed.

"Come on," he said, knowing that she didn't want to talk about it, and thinking that she was ready for a change of scenery, even a small one. "Let's go upstairs and get dressed, and then we'll see if there's anything on TV. We'll sit and just watch something brainless for a little while before I go subject myself to shoveling the driveway," he suggested. While she didn't really care what was on TV, she appreciated the idea of the distraction. When he withdrew his arm slowly from her back so that he could stand up, she immediately felt cold air fill that space. It made her shiver slightly as she watched him push back his chair, stand up and take the dishes to the counter by the sink.

She was still watching him when he walked back to the table and looked at her expectantly, noticing that he wasn't exactly _smiling_ , but that his eyes seemed to be drawing her in, watching her intently. Standing up slowly, she pushed her chair back under the table and walked with him back toward the stairs. Back in their room, they both fished clothes out of their respective bags and, being the first one to find everything he needed, he smiled at her and then darted out of the room towards the bathroom without a word.

Watching him go, it was all she could do to wonder at the tiny things that he did that made her heart burst with affection for him. Like right now, when he simply made himself scarce when it was time for them both to change, avoiding any potential awkwardness. Yes, they were both adults and yes, they were attracted to each other and yes, it was quite possible that they would get to that point, _maybe_ , if she could ever get past everything that haunted her – not least the horrible scars all over her body – but… _she_ was not there yet, which automatically meant that _they_ were not there yet, and he made it clear without saying a word that that was absolutely fine with him. It was one of a thousand things – or maybe more – that made her love him.

Back downstairs in the family room, she followed him to the couch. Sitting down timidly, she found that somehow they ended up with a few inches of space between them once they were both settled.

 _How had that happened, anyway?_ she wondered. It certainly hadn't been on purpose, as far as she knew.

He appeared to notice at the same time she did, and he mumbled, "Well, that's no good," moving closer to her until their sides were comfortably pressed together and taking her hand, this time her left in his right. She angled herself so that she could comfortably let her head fall against his shoulder as he held the remote control in his left hand, pressing hard on the buttons until it worked. The small TV finally came to life, and the sound of voices floated through the air. It was slightly jarring at first, after the stillness in which they'd had lunch, but he turned it down a little and it became more of a comfortable background noise.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Jane said quietly, out of nowhere. She was staring down at their joined hands. It seemed easier this way, with his comforting presence beside her, but not having to look into his eyes as she spoke.

"I know that, Jane," he whispered, squeezing her hand.

"I just woke up and I… I just needed to get _out_. The weather was, I guess you could say, rather unfortunately timed." Once again, he leaned his cheek against the top of her head, nodding silently. "And I don't know why, but when I was standing out there, I had this urge to go and find that hiding spot you talked about, yours and Taylor's… which, I know, is stupid because… well… for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one _besides_ the fact that it was the middle of a blizzard and the middle of the night being that I'm not Taylor…"

Her tone was matter of fact, blameless, and yet, he felt guilt stabbing at him. _I pulled my gun on her_ , he told himself. _What kind of a monster does that to someone they're supposed to care about?_

 _As it was so emphatically pointed out to me the night you arrested me,_ she thought, but managed not to editorialize the point.

He saw the whole thing happening in slow motion in his mind, like a horror movie that he couldn't look away from, no matter how much he wanted to.

 _So, if Taylor Shaw is dead… then who the hell are you?_

It was the kind of image that nightmares were made of – he'd had his _gun_ pointed at her, for God's sake. For a minute he wondered if he was going to be sick, but he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and focused only on the present. On the fact that she was there beside him, that they were okay, and that that part of their past was over.

She took a breath and kept going. "…because you'd said that you used to go there and wait, because you thought that if she ever came back that's where you'd find her… and it was stupid because I'd been right there next to you in the sleeping bag, and I was the one who went outside in a damn blizzard. You shouldn't have _needed_ to find me! And then suddenly, once I was out there, instead of just turning around and going back inside, I started thinking that I wanted someone – no, _not_ someone, _**you**_ , to find me…" Her voice trailed off and she shook her head sadly. "I sound like an idiot, even to myself." She paused then, slightly out of breath after her words had just started pouring out.

He was quiet for a minute, and the longer it stretched out, the more her stomach clenched, afraid of what he was going to say. "First of all, 'idiot' is _not_ the word that I would use," he said soothingly, which made her smile slightly, despite everything. Of course, it reminded her of the first day they'd gone undercover together, and it had certainly not been an accident that he used those words now.

She'd looked so beautiful that day, and so happy… hell, _he'd_ been so happy that day. Never mind that their lives were in danger. That op had meant the chance to be closer to her, even if it was allegedly only acting… because deep down, even though he hadn't quite admitted it to himself, it hadn't _all_ been an act.

"And secondly, I think that most people, at one time or another, just need to be reassured that if they weren't around, someone would notice. That someone would miss them. Even if they don't want to admit it."

She knew that he was talking about her, and the day not too long ago when she'd offered herself as the "logical choice" for a dangerous mission based solely on the fact that, in her words, _no one would miss her_ if something went wrong – not to gain his sympathy, but because she saw it as the truth. It made sense, in some twisted way, that that had possibly been what she'd been thinking the night before. That she wanted to find their hiding place because he'd said that as kids, he used to look for her there. And in her confusion and terror leftover from the dream, once she'd found herself outside and in danger, she'd just wanted him to find her.

 _Does that actually make sense?_ she asked herself. She didn't know. Really, she felt like she didn't know anything anymore.

"Maybe," she replied quietly.

"And I know I told you before," he said, squeezing her hand again, "that I would miss you… But… well, that's not quite right." He felt her stiffen, and he leaned into her. "Let me finish, okay?" His tone was warm and it seemed unlikely that was about to say anything unkind, she had simply conditioned herself to expect the worst.

She forced herself to relax, though she was suddenly very confused about what he was talking about.

 _So he_ _ **wouldn't**_ _miss me?_

"I wouldn't _just_ miss you," he told her. "I don't… I don't even want to think about a life that you're not part of. And I know… my actions haven't really shown that up until a few days ago…"

Her head was shaking against him in protest. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she interrupted him. "It wasn't fair of me. It's behind us. We can't change it."

"But you weren't wrong, what you said. I understand why you felt that way," he replied with a sad smile. "And no, we can't change it. But I'm saying this anyway, because I want you to know how serious I am. And that I understand… that your hesitation isn't because you don't want to believe me – at least, I don't _think_ it is –"

He looked at her with an expectant smile, and she shook her head slightly, a slight smile on her lips. "Okay, good. So, anyway, I know that it's because it's just not that easy. I don't expect it to be. I don't expect any of it to be easy. And I'm okay with it not being easy… what I would _not_ be okay with is losing you." His voice dropped to a whisper then, as he added, "Not again."

He turned her hand over in his, so that the back of her hand, covered in such intricate designs that it almost looked like more ink than skin, faced up. With the index finger on his left hand, he began tracing those fine lines, still holding her hand tightly in his right. The feeling reminded her of when he'd traced the oil derrick tattoo on her back, both soothing and giving rise to the feeling of butterflies in her stomach at the same time, and she couldn't help but smile. Her mind was empty for a few seconds, just focusing on that sensation, before returning once again to the night before.

"It felt so real… the dream," she said in a low voice, a shiver running through her whole body – he even felt it through her hand, and through the leg, shoulder and side that were pressed against his own. "I don't think I've _ever_ been so scared, not even when…"

 _When Keaton was torturing me,_ she thought, but didn't say it out loud. Her eyes fell closed as she remembered, despite _not_ wanting to remember with everything inside her. She felt him squeeze her hand, and she continued to force the words out.

"…and then he…" She knew that she shouldn't go into details, that it was something her mind had made up on its own anyway, and that there was no use hurting him with her version of what may have happened to the little girl that he had loved so much. It worked out, though, because she could not have said the words out loud if she'd wanted to. She tried hard not to even see the images, but it was difficult. They were fuzzy, but they were there.

"I'm sorry," she told him, shaking her head to try to clear the image and then looking up at him, immediately feeling guilty. "You're the last person I should tell any of that too."

His hand squeezed tighter around hers and he shook his head. "Trust me," he said sadly, "there is no scenario that I haven't imagined over the years. I can't imagine what it must have felt like in your dream… but if it makes you feel better, say whatever you need to say."

"Thanks," she replied quietly, leaning her head against his shoulder, "but I'm just trying to forget it. Maybe I'll be lucky and it'll be like the dreams that fade until you can't really remember them anymore."

Nodding in agreement, he thought for a second, his fingers still moving almost unconsciously over the back of her hand. "You just need a lot of good thoughts to block out the bad dreams…" he told her, as if it was obvious. "And the real life nightmares, too, of course." After all, some of the most horrible things she'd seen had been when she was awake.

 _Thanks to me,_ he thought before he could stop the thought from forming.

 _That won't help anything now,_ he reminded himself, exhaling slowly in an attempt to release the thought and the guilt that went with it right along with the air that was leaving his body.

"That's a _lot_ of good thoughts," she said, picking her head up and glancing up at him.

He couldn't help but feel like she was looking for something in his face, almost like the idea that that many good thoughts could exist was a foreign concept. "That sounds like a challenge," he observed with surprise in his voice. "You don't think I can do it?"

Her face melted into a smile then. "If anyone can do it, it would be you," she told him sincerely.

"And I intend to," he told her. After all, he was nothing if not stubborn – or determined, if he wanted to frame his stubbornness more positively. The proof of this was his life – he'd been motivated by nothing but finding Taylor for more than twenty-five years, as painful as that had been. This new goal of saturating Jane's collection of thoughts with happy ones was a _much_ more enjoyable one to work toward. She still had a lot of demons, and that wasn't going to change any time soon, but he would be there to help her fight them, just like she was already helping him with his.

Turning towards her on his right, he bent his right knee so that he could draw his leg up in front of him on the couch, turning to face her at almost a ninety degree angle. He hesitantly let go of her hand, resting his right arm along her shoulders, his left hand across the front of her so that his hands met at her right shoulder. Without a word she scooted closer to him, leaning her left temple against his chest, her legs tucking up on her right side so that she could snuggle closer to him as he kissed the top of her head.

Neither of them paid attention to what was on TV, the noise having long since faded into the background. They couldn't see each other's faces to know that they had both closed their eyes, but neither of them were asleep. They were simply enjoying each other's company and the closeness of that moment.

When Sarah walked into the room just before two o'clock, wearing her boots and snow pants but not yet the rest of her winter gear, they hadn't moved from that spot in more than an hour. Hearing the floors creaking, they both opened their eyes and looked up to see Sarah looking at them with a goofy grin on her face. Jane, feeling a little flustered by being caught there, tucked into Kurt so tightly, tried to pull herself up. Kurt, however, held onto her tightly so that within a few seconds she relaxed again. It wasn't as though she'd _wanted_ to move in the first place, and Kurt was clearly not letting go of her for his sister's benefit.

"You guys…" she said, shaking her head. "Seriously, stop being so cute."

"You ready to get started?" Kurt asked her, ignoring the good-natured teasing.

"Whenever you are," she told him.

"Ready for _what?_ " Jane asked in confusion.

"It's a tradition we have that started when we were… how old?" Kurt asked Sarah.

She thought for a minute before shrugging her shoulders. "Barely old enough to hold a snow shovel," she replied.

Nodding, Kurt continued his explanation. "My dad devised this contest for us. He gave us each even patches of driveway, and we had to see who could shovel their side faster."

Despite the mention of Bill Weller, no one had seemed to flinch this time. Instead, Jane kept herself focused on the brilliance of the technique for getting the snow cleared. "That's a pretty good trick to play on your kids," she observed.

Sarah laughed in agreement. "Yeah, the patches of driveway that we had to clear got bigger as we did. By the time Kurt," she paused then, exchanging a knowing look with her brother, but continuing, "went away to military school, he were clearing pretty much the whole driveway by ourselves."

Ignoring the sensitive issue of their father, Jane smiled appreciatively. "That's pretty brilliant," she told them.

"Yeah, so now it's become a matter of bragging rights," Kurt told her. "We both know that we could do the whole thing individually – except, of course, why would we _want_ to? – but we're going to split it and see who's the fastest. Living in different cities, and then even in the same city but with nothing to shovel, we've had to sit out this challenge for quite a while. So this is a long time coming. Whoever wins this one may get bragging rights for _years_ to come."

Jane chuckled at the competitiveness that she could hear in both siblings' voices. It was very amusing to watch the two of them, though it gave her a slight twinge of regret over the fact that she and Roman had probably never had anything even close to that, and the way things now stood, with him without a memory and being held indefinitely by the FBI, probably never would. Their only common bonds, as far as she knew, were based on shared trauma.

Forcing herself back to the present, she focused with renewed determination on the feeling of Kurt's arms around her, realizing that this meant that he was probably getting ready to let go of her and get up to get ready for this strange snow shoveling grudge match.

"Is it still snowing?" Jane asked them, turning to try to look out one of the back windows.

"Yes, though not as hard," Sarah replied. "And I already looked," she told Kurt, "there's probably at least two feet of snow on the driveway. Probably more."

"Could be our biggest challenge yet," Kurt said. Jane swore there was a hint of excitement in his voice.

"You guys might be a little competitive at this game, I'm guessing?" Jane observed with a grin. She'd never have thought that shoveling snow could be viewed as a contest before, but knowing Kurt, it didn't actually seem like much of a surprise. It was just a shame that he was going to be getting up from where they were so comfortably sitting any second now.

"Alright," he said, squeezing his arms around Jane before reluctantly letting go of her, "I'm going to go suit up."

"What ever happened to Sawyer?" Jane asked Sarah as Kurt walked away from her slowly toward the front door.

"I think he's upstairs, in Christmas present heaven," Sarah replied. Then, looking at Kurt, she added, "We went way overboard on presents for him, _again_."

Kurt stopped and turned around, shrugging. "Well…" he said, dragging out the word as he grinned. He had no regrets about spoiling his nephew. Sawyer was a good kid, after all.

At that moment, Jane couldn't help but think once again of what a great dad Kurt was going to make… which inevitably led her to feel a sharp twinge in her chest at the thought of Allie, and of the daughter that he was going to have with her… Like everything else in her life, it was out of her control. There was nothing to be done about it, and dwelling on it wasn't going to help. She didn't dare harbor even a shadow of a hope that she could… _No_. She refused to even say the words in her head. After all, she was lucky to be where she was now. That was all she should be focusing on. Despite what Shepherd had once told her, there was nothing about the future that she felt that she could control.

Jane followed the two elder Wellers to the front hallway, where they were putting on every bit of winter outerwear they had. Kurt saw her standing there, watching them, and he shook his head at her.

"Don't even think about it, Jane," he told her firmly. His eyes told her, _You've been outside half frozen enough already._ Aloud he said, "This is between Sarah and me. No fair helping either side."

"Awww, that's so cute that you think I'd help you," she told him teasingly, leaning her shoulder against the wall on her right and grinning at him. Sarah chuckled and rolled her eyes as her brother's face grew predictably pink and he walked towards her, now wearing boots and snow pants.

Jane watched in amusement as he approached her. The butterflies in her stomach were fluttering madly again, but she stared at him evenly as if his proximity had no effect on her.

"So what _are_ you saying, then?" he asked her in a low voice, stopping closer to her than he would've stood to talk to anyone else. The term _personal space_ meant nothing just then. On the contrary, they very much enjoyed being _in_ each other's personal space.

She just shrugged, looking up at him innocently as he stood within inches of her, forcing himself to keep his hands at his side.

"I didn't say a thing," she insisted innocently, enjoying the intensity with which he was looking in her eyes.

"I really wish we were outside, so I could throw snowballs at you two," Sarah said, standing by the door waiting for Kurt and pretending to be annoyed. In reality, she couldn't be happier for them. They were so cute it kind of made her want to throw up.

Kurt's unbreakable gaze, which had been fixed on Jane, was broken then, as they both looked at Sarah and laughed with embarrassment. His hand landed on Jane's arm just above her elbow, squeezing gently, before he let go to catch up with Sarah. Jane continued to watch the two with a wide smile, thinking about how happy she was, and what a good sport Sarah was being about this whole thing. After all, she doubted very much that Kurt had told her the whole story. What she must have thought of Jane based on whatever part of the story she _did_ know… and yet, she had made Jane feel welcome at their family Christmas, and had been nothing but kind to her. Jane made a mental note to pull Sarah aside at some point before they left and thank her herself.

As she watched the siblings go outside, Jane chuckled to herself at the trash talk that was flying back and forth between them. Shivering at the cold air coming in through the open door, she moved into the front room, which had a window overlooking the driveway. She sat down on a chair next to the large window to watch their progress. As they had described, she saw them mark off halves of the driveway and stood, shovels at the ready, counting down to "Go!"

 _I can't believe I'm watching those two facing off over bragging rights on who would clear their side of the driveway first_ , she thought to herself, shaking her head and chuckling to herself. Jane couldn't help but think that Kurt had the advantage. After all, being an FBI agent meant being in very good shape. She'd sparred with him – hell, she'd actually _fought_ him – before, after all, and she could confirm that this was, indeed, the case.

 _Poor Sarah,_ Jane thought. _I don't think she knows what she's getting into._

Just then, the stairs overhead creaked, and Sawyer walked down them, his feet clomping loudly against the wood. "Mom!" he called as he came around the corner.

"Uh, she's outside," Jane called to him uncertainly.

"Jane?" Sawyer called, hearing her voice but not sure where it had come from.

"In here," she told him, and he followed the sound of her voice into the front room. "What are you—?" He stopped when he saw his mom and his uncle through the window, walking over by where Jane was sitting. "What are they _doing_?"

"They're apparently going to race and see who can clear off their side of the driveway faster," Jane told him.

Sawyer watched them skeptically for a minute. "Do you have brothers or sisters?" he asked her.

Jane hesitated for a second, still not used to knowing the answers to very many personal questions about herself. "A brother," she said, feeling proud that for once, the answer to a question about her wasn't 'I don't know.'

"I used to wish I had brothers or sisters," Sawyer said. "But are siblings always so… _weird_ with each other?"

Jane laughed, shrugging her shoulders. "Everyone's different," she said, watching the two of them out the window. "My brother and I are nothing like them." Suddenly, she could feel Sawyer watching her, instead of Kurt and Sarah, and she wished that she'd stayed quiet and not attracted his attention. Though she felt silly, because she knew that he Sawyer was only ten, she braced herself for the interrogation that she was afraid was coming. Maybe she'd get lucky and—

"Are you and Uncle Kurt, like… boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked her suddenly. Jane, completely shocked, couldn't breathe for just a second. How in the world was she going to navigate _this_ conversation? She had yet to have anything _like_ this conversation with Kurt. Hell, she had yet to think about it for _herself._

 _Keep it simple,_ she told herself. Taking a deep breath and smiling at him, she replied, "We haven't really talked about it. Why?" She was pleased to say that she sounded a whole lot calmer than she felt.

Sawyer looked at her thoughtfully for a minute, then said, "My mom said that he loves you."

Jane tried to keep her face impassive, even as her heart thumped loudly in her chest and her palms began sweating.

 _He… what?_

 _Oh, please,_ her inner voice said, more sarcastically than she'd ever heard it say anything. _This is not a surprise. At this point, how can you have any doubts?_

"She… did?" Jane had a million other questions, but she didn't dare ask any of them. This conversation was more than a little bit uncomfortable to start with, much less to be having it with Kurt's ten year old nephew, after all. "She told you that?" That question, at least, seemed safe. It didn't seem possible that Sarah could have said something like that… not to _Sawyer._

"Well, not _to me_ ," he admitted slowly. "She was talking to her friend on the phone… I didn't mean to listen, it's just… this house is so quiet, and walls are so thin…" he stammered slightly, embarrassed. "I don't know _who_ she was talking to, but she was talking about you and Uncle Kurt for sure. And she definitely said, 'he loves her.' That's all I know." He watched her for a few seconds, granting Jane a short reprieve to take in this information before asking, "Do _you_ think he does?" His face was filled with innocent curiosity.

To say that Jane was flustered would be an understatement, of course. She wished just then that she could have been almost anywhere else so that she didn't have to answer any more questions about this, and she suddenly wondered how a ten year old boy could frighten her more than most of the terrorists that she had come up against since she crawled out of that bag in Times Square. She was pretty sure that she would almost have rather dealt with Sandstorm than this line of questioning.

"I don't know," Jane told him slowly, telling herself that this was the honest answer. "He's never told me."

 _Bullshit,_ the voice in her head said quickly. _You know._

Sawyer looked at her, seeming surprised, for a minute, then asked, "But he never said that he _didn't_ love you, did he?"

Jane felt herself flinch inside as she recalled some of more painful interactions they'd had over the last six months, keeping her face as impassive as possible. Kurt pulling a gun on her, then putting her in handcuffs… And then, their "reunion," the knock-down, drag out fight in that grimy motel hallway not long after she'd finally escaped from the CIA hellhole in Oregon... Overhearing his words to Zapata in the hallway that day… _Look, I don't like working with her any more than you do. I don't like being in the same room as her…_ No, he'd never said that he didn't love her, but he'd certainly given her a few reasons to feel that way.

Of course, she wasn't exactly innocent. She'd told him enough lies to last a lifetime. The fact that she'd done it to protect him… well, in the end it seemed that that hadn't been quite enough to fix things, at the time.

Hell, if anyone had said anything about love, it had been _her_ , and somehow unsurprisingly, it had come at the worst time possible – in the middle of a shoot-out with a scared teenager. Those words also sprung quickly to her mind.

 _I know... this doesn't make any sense right now. But it is possible to lie to someone and still love them very much._ She'd looked him in the eye, willing him to understand…

All this went through her head within a few seconds as her eyes had darted away from Sawyer's face. Feeling him looking at her, she smiled at him and said, "No, he never said that."

Still studying her carefully, Sawyer was continued to chew on the information he'd gotten from her. Jane wished fervently that this particular conversation would end, and tried in vain to think of a way to change the subject. The problem was, her mind was now frozen on this particular topic, despite how badly she wanted _not_ to think about it.

"Do you love him?" Sawyer's words cut through her thoughts and she looked up, slightly in shock.

 _I certainly should have expected that one,_ she thought as she scrambled to think of how to answer, knowing that her answer very well could get back to Kurt.

"I…" she said, her words stuck in her throat. She glanced out the window at the pair, who were still shoveling furiously. _How am I supposed to answer that question?_ she demanded silently of herself.

Snapping out of it and looking back at Sawyer, she noticed a curious look on his face. "I don't know," she sighed, forcing herself to smile and knowing that this was not the most honest answer to the question. However, Kurt's ten year old nephew was not the first person to whom she could confess any love for Kurt that she may or may not have, after all.

Sawyer just nodded, still smiling as though he knew something that she didn't. "Okay," he said lightly, and walked out of the room, having finally, mercifully, appeared to tire of the conversation.

 _Well_ _ **that**_ _could have gone better,_ Jane thought, watching the Weller siblings continue to shovel snow and glancing over her shoulder, almost afraid that she would see Sawyer returning with follow up questions.

She thought about going in the kitchen to make some tea, but she wasn't sure where the curious ten year old had gone, and her preference at that moment was to keep a little bit of distance between the two of them, lest he think of any more _interesting_ questions that he wanted to ask her. She shook her head, thinking that after all of the FBI and CIA interrogations she'd been subjected to over time, Sawyer's had been even more nerve racking than most of them. 

_Because you were lying this time,_ the voice in her head said.

 _I was_ _ **not**_ _,_ she thought quickly.

 _Whatever you say,_ the voice replied in amusement.

It was cold in the front room by the window, despite the heat working just fine, so eventually Jane did stand up and walk back to the kitchen, from which she could see Sawyer engrossed in something on TV in the family room. She quietly made herself some tea and sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the swirling steam that rose from the hot water. The leaves inside the tea bag sent colored ripples out into the mug as she dunked it in and out, until she finally let it sit still to steep. Her hands wrapped gently around the mug for a few seconds, until it felt too hot, and then let go, backing off by about an inch to wait a minute until her hands cooled enough to repeat the action.

Finally her tea was cool enough for her to take a sip, and she felt the liquid warming her insides. It felt as though Sarah and Kurt had been outside for much longer than the thirty minutes that the clock told her they had, and she wondered how much longer they would be. This was, after all, the longest time she'd been away from him, not including the time when they were sleeping, or _supposed_ to be sleeping and wandering into a blizzard…

 _You have it_ _ **bad**_ _,_ the voice in her head told her. _You definitely love him. It's pretty obvious, and this should just one more example._

Ignoring the voice in her head, she stood up from the table with her tea and walked back to the front room to see how much progress they'd made outside. The driveway was now finished, and Jane wondered who had won the contest. Now it appeared that they were clearing off Kurt's car, digging it out of the snowdrift that had built up on and around it. From what she could tell, it looked like they were having a good time, despite the freezing temperatures and the snow that was still falling on them, though now only lightly.

She stood by the window and watched them, sipping her tea. After all, it wasn't as though there was much else to do.

 _There's a good chance they'll want some hot chocolate when they come in,_ she suddenly thought to herself. The idea that she could do something helpful, after how wonderful they'd both been to her that weekend, made her smile, and she was back in the kitchen before she knew it. Setting down her own tea, she took out two mugs and set them on the table in the middle of the room, emptying hot chocolate mix into them and setting out spoons and marshmallows. She'd boiled water recently, so the water in the kettle was still relatively hot, but she turned the dial to _warm_ to at least keep the water from cooling off any further.

With everything set up in the kitchen, she picked up her tea, which was now almost empty, and went back to the front room to check on their progress again.

 _You're really impatient, aren't you?_ the voice in her head asked teasingly.

 _I'm just curious_ , she thought defensively.

 _Of course you are,_ the voice told her soothingly.

Looking up at the yard in front of her, she saw Sarah and Kurt finally on their way back up the now cleared driveway. Before she even realized it, she had moved back into the doorway, where the front room connected to the hall, leaning against the trim over the doorway in anticipation, feeling a grin on her face.

 _You so obviously love him_ , the voice in her head said, almost triumphantly.

 _Go away,_ she told it, but she could feel herself smiling, possibly even blushing a little.

Seconds later the door opened, and a blast of cold air accompanied the Weller siblings in from the cold.

"Hey, guys," Jane said in greeting. "How'd it go? I watched for a while, but it was cold by the window."

"He cheated," Sarah said, shooting an icy glare at Kurt, even while grinning at him.

Kurt looked at her in mock surprise, an innocent grin on his face. "I'm offended that you would say that," he told his sister in a voice that said that he was hurt by her accusation. "I don't _need_ to cheat. I'm just that good."

They grumbled at each other for several more minutes as they took off their layers of snow gear, once again making a pile that would go to the dryer. After a particularly biting remark from Kurt, which had been said so quietly that Jane hadn't even managed to hear it, Sarah punched him playfully in the arm. When she then began to laugh and rolled her eyes, and Jane bit her lip to hold in her laughter at the two of them. "You're the _worst_ ," Sarah told him, smacking his arm again. Having gotten herself quickly out of her snow gear, she walked quickly toward the hallway bathroom. "Excuse me for a minute, guys."

Seeing a chance at a few seconds of relative privacy, Kurt, who was still wearing boots and his snow pants, but had removed the rest of his cold weather gear, walked over to Jane and stopped only inches from her, once again squarely in her personal space. Uncharacteristically quickly, he bent down to put his face only inches from hers – he only had a minute or so, after all – and was surprised when Jane leaned forward the last little bit of the way to kiss him. When she leaned back just a few seconds later, he was looking at her in amused surprise.

"What was that for?" he asked quietly, his hands having perched lightly on her waist without his even noticing until that moment.

She just shrugged, watching him as he smiled broadly at her. _Why do I have a feeling that my cheeks are as pink as his?_ she wondered. Of course, _her_ cheeks weren't flushed from the cold air, but from something else.

Still holding her mug in her right hand, she put her left hand up to his cheek, moving her fingers gently over the scruff on his face. It felt just as cold as she expected, and he leaned into the warmth of her hand immediately.

"Wow, you're really warm," he told her, his eyes not leaving hers. Just then they heard the water in the sink in the bathroom nearby, and she reluctantly dropped her hand from his face, as he let his hands fall from her waist. His smile, however, continued to hold her eyes on him.

 _Damn you and that smile,_ she thought, knowing that she was under his spell – not that she wanted to be released. He took a step back so that he could continue getting out of his boots and his snow pants just as Sarah came out of the bathroom, immediately grinning at their proximity despite the fact that they weren't touching at that moment.

Feeling her scrutiny and wanting to distract from it, Jane asked, "Do you guys want hot chocolate? I have everything set up in the kitchen."

"That sounds good, thanks," Sarah said, starting in that direction with a knowing smile aimed at them once more before turning around. Kurt had stepped back quickly when Jane turned towards Sarah, seeing that she was distracted, and was now out of his snow gear. Stepping toward her once more, he reached for her hand. Despite the fact that his was ice cold, she took it with only the slightest flinch to show that the cold had affected her, as they started down the hall behind Sarah.

"Sorry, my hand must feel ridiculously cold to you," he said quietly to her.

"It sure does," she replied, then squeezed it tighter.

In the entryway to the kitchen, he let her hand go so that she could walk across the room and get the kettle, bringing it to the table and pouring steaming water into the two cups that were sitting there as Sarah and Kurt sat down on opposite sides of the table. Both murmured "Thanks," then stirred their hot chocolate and gingerly put their cold fingers around the mugs.

"Are you having some?" Sarah asked, looking over her shoulder at Jane. She had set her own mug down on the counter and was taking out another tea bag.

"No, but I'm going to have some more tea," Jane replied, pouring water over the tea bag and bringing it to the table.

"Hey Sawyer, do you want hot chocolate?" Sarah called. Her son looked up from where he lay under a blanket on the couch.

"That would mean moving, right?" he asked, looking completely disinclined to do so.

"Yes it would," Sarah replied brightly, knowing that Sawyer already knew the answer and that he was trying to see what he could get away with.

"Okay then… No, thank you. I'm good right here," he replied, returning his attention to whatever he was watching on TV.

The adults chuckled, all of them quiet as they focused on the warmth of their drinks. After only a minute or so, however, Sarah stood up, picking up her mug and saying, "I'm still freezing. I'm going to go take a hot shower." She stood up from the table and hesitated for a few seconds, grinning down at the two of them, then turned and walked back down the hall towards the stairs. Once again, Jane and Kurt were mostly alone. Kurt was pretty sure that his sister was doing it on purpose – giving them space at every opportunity.

Kurt turned in his chair to face her, laying his left arm across the back of her chair as she leaned back. She was still replaying the conversation that she'd had with Sawyer in her head – it had been… _interesting_.

"You okay?" he asked her, sensing that she seemed distant. She looked up and glanced over her shoulder at him, realizing that she'd been lost in thought.

"Yeah," she said, a smile returning to her face as she focused on the present time.

 _My mom said that he loves you._ It was as though Sawyer's voice was stuck on repeat in her head. She understood the words, of course, but for some reason their meaning couldn't quite penetrate her brain. It just wasn't possible…

 _Wait… you're saying that it's a surprise?_ the voice in her head asked in annoyance. _Come on, haven't I been saying that since the beginning?_

 _Not a surprise… not exactly…_ she thought.

 _So, you don't believe it?_ the voice asked. She expected the tone with which it spoke to her to harden then, but to her surprise, it did the opposite.

 _Come on… deep down you have to know…_

 _It's not like he's said anything of the sort,_ she thought defensively. _And besides, he's a decent guy. He treats everyone with respect. It's not as though that's rare._

 _The way he is with you is not just respect and you know it,_ the voice countered. _You've seen the way he looks at you… that he_ _ **always**_ _has._

Deciding to try to ignore the voice in her head for the moment, she scooted towards him instead, so that his arm moved from the chair to her back. Their chairs were already pushed together, so she barely noticed when she slid from hers partway onto his. As she leaned against him, she sighed, her eyes darting toward the doorway that led to the hall, but they could already hear the water running in the bathroom upstairs so once again, for the moment they had relative privacy.

"Sarah was grilling me about… _us_ ," he said in a low voice, just beside her ear. Feeling her stiffen notably, he pulled her a little closer. He took her right hand in his and rested it on her own leg in front of her, then let it go so that he could use his fingers to trace, to the best of his ability with fingers that were so much bigger than the tiny lines, the honeycomb pattern on the back of her hand.

"What about us?" she asked, trying to feign lack of curiosity.

Chuckling softly at her attempt at appearing disinterested, he replied, "Oh, you know… she asked me what was 'going on' with us…"

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, appearing even tenser than the previous time she'd spoken. "What'd you tell her?"

"I told her," he began slowly, "that after being a jerk for the past several months, on Friday, just before our office holiday party, I started to realize how stupid I'd been to shut you out… and that since then we'd been working on… figuring things out."

"That's a good answer," she replied, thinking that he'd gracefully dodged the question. Part of her was glad to be spared the embarrassment of a more specific answer – one way or the other – the other part wished she knew the real answer.

Chuckling softly, she decided to tell him what Sawyer had asked her. Well, part of it, anyway. "Sawyer asked me if we were 'boyfriend and girlfriend,'" she said shyly. She hadn't been planning to bring it up, at least not yet, because it was such an awkward subject – what _were_ they to each other, anyway? They had never had a label other than the standard, official, work related ones… but nothing about their relationship had ever been standard.

He chuckled and asked her, "So what did you say?"

"Oh, uh, well… nothing nearly as eloquent as what you told Sarah. I told him that we hadn't talked about it… because, well, we haven't," she told him, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her and save her from having to continue with this conversation. Out of sheer terror of his silence, or alternatively, of the chance that he would try to fill the silence and tell her something that she didn't want to hear, she began talking again quickly. "I mean, you know, it's only been less than three days since we've even been _speaking_ to each other if we weren't being forced to, so of course… I mean, I'm not an expert or anything but it seems like that's—"

"Jane," he said, leaning around the side of her to try look her in the face, silencing her with only the sound of her own name. He waited until she looked over her shoulder at him before he continued. It was only reluctantly that she raised her eyes to look at him, and he saw the hesitation there. "Do you remember what I told you on the day we first met Rich Dotcom? When we were dancing?"

She remembered they had talked about lots of things, and she wasn't sure which one it was to which he was referring. "Well I remember that I bombarded you with personal questions that day so… _Which_ thing should I be remembering?" she asked, blushing, as she thought back to that day. She really had been over the line, she now realized, and yet he hadn't brushed off any of her questions, even though it would have been understandable if he had. No one else on the team would have gotten answers to the things that she had, and after getting to know him better, she now knew it.

Smiling fondly at her, he said, "The part where I said I was too choosy," he replied, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

Chills ran down her spine at the thought of what he was hinting at. "Of course," she replied before she could think about her response or try to downplay just how _well_ she remembered that he'd said that. She'd replayed that conversation over and over in her head afterwards, after all. She also remembered that he'd said that in reply to her question about whether he'd ever been _married_.

"Well… that hasn't changed. If anything, it's gotten worse." He looked at her watching him, suddenly appearing nervous as she watched him over her shoulder and, seeing the perplexed look on her face, he just shook his head and smiled. Her unassuming nature was one of the many things he loved about her, though he did wish that she didn't find it so impossible to believe anything positive about herself.

 _Give it time,_ he told himself. _You can work on that._

When he saw that she was still looking at him in confusion, he decided to stop hinting and just spit it out. "It's always been you," he told her simply.

She opened her mouth to point out that there had also been Allie and Nas in the time that he'd known her, so that wasn't really accurate, but he was ready.

"And I know what you're going to say," he told her confidently, shaking his head and looking sheepish. "They had nothing to do with it. It was… _complicated_ … between us, then."

She grimaced at what may have been the understatement of the year, looking away from him. _Which time could he be referring to?_ she wondered _. When I lied to you because Sandstorm threatened to kill you if I didn't? Or when you found out I wasn't Taylor and let the CIA torture me? Or when you brought me back to the FBI and everyone treated me like a criminal for trying to save all of your lives? Yes, I'd say that things were_ _ **complicated**_ _between us._

She stiffened, and his fingers, which had been tracing the honeycomb tattoo, now curled around the back of her right hand protectively, holding it tightly. This part was important, and he knew it.

"I thought that I would… _forget_ … how I'd felt about you… if enough time passed. If I..." He hung his head, embarrassed, then looked back up at her slowly to find her watching him, looking sad. "But I didn't. I _couldn't_ , not even when I thought I wanted to. Not even when I was angry… They weren't… _you_ … And for a long time I told myself that that was a good thing, that I didn't know who _you_ were. I'd almost convinced myself of it."

He took a deep breath and continued. "So when you came back… No, when we _made_ you come back… It was only then that I realized that I _did_ know you. Maybe not in the way I thought I had, but in the way that mattered… It was like… I don't know. Suddenly I could see it, see _you_ , the real you… the same one I saw in the beginning. And I know it's only been a couple days since I got my head back on straight… but I already know. It took me a long time, but I _finally_ figured it out…" He shrugged, smiling a reserved, very un-Kurt Weller-like smile that she had to call _shy_.

 _Kurt? Shy?_ It didn't make sense.

Then, in a whisper he said, "I don't want anyone else, Jane… just you… so you can call that whatever you want."

Stunned, she sat and blinked at him. He'd just said a lot of things that she hadn't expected, after all, and she was more than a little bit overwhelmed. She'd always felt a pull towards him, but then after he'd arrested her… it was like he said – in her anger, she'd wanted to move on, had thought that she hated him… But it had never been that simple. She'd resigned herself to the fact that he'd hated her, that what had _almost_ happened was as close as they were going to get, and that she'd be lucky if they even came out the other side of the mess they'd made of things as friends. More likely, they'd be acquaintances with a shared, painful past of making mistakes and miscommunicating. She would just have to accept that fact, as much as it hurt.

And then, Friday had come, and her world had turned upside down. And now it was Monday, and she didn't know what to think. He'd just confessed something so emotional to her, so heavy, and at the same time that she should have been – that she _wanted to be –_ bursting with happiness, she was terrified. Because she already knew what it felt like to lose the thing that she'd wanted – _him_ – even though technically she'd never _had_ him. So how much worse would it hurt to lose him if he was actually hers?

He watched her carefully, knowing that he'd just overwhelmed her with his words, but not regretting them. They'd needed to be said, and he'd been holding them in for what felt like an eternity, even though he'd really only realized a lot of it a few minutes before.

Drawing her knees up in front of her on the chair, she pulled her arms around them tightly, leaning her left cheek against her knees and watching him angle his face so that he could look at hers. Even as her arms were clamped around her knees, his right hand was still holding onto her right hand, so it was now wrapped around the front of her. He now wrapped his left arm around her left side, making a circle around her with his arms.

 _Okay, now backtrack and simplify what you just said,_ he told himself. _You had to know that that would be a little much for her all at once._

"Is that okay with you?" he asked. "If I don't want it to be about anyone but you?"

Her eyes found his, and he saw the fear there. _It's incredible,_ he thought, _that someone who would, and_ _ **has**_ _, rushed toward danger – loaded weapons, bombs, or any other manner of thing that could_ _ **kill**_ _her – in order to save a team member, a perfect stranger, or even for someone who had actively wronged her, without a second thought… is scared of her own emotions._

 _It's not without good reason,_ the voice in his head reminded him. _She doesn't have any good memories of trusting people. I don't think she did even_ _ **before**_ _her memory was wiped._

Her face relaxed slightly into a hint of a smile, and she nodded, but she still didn't raise her head. "Yeah," she whispered. And even though she knew that he would have told her she didn't have to say anything else, she found that she wanted to – even though doing so wasn't easy. "It's the same for me," she whispered, forcing the words out. "It was always only about you, too."

Leaning down and kissing her temple, he smiled and pulled his arms more tightly around her. For a minute, she had trouble understanding what she was feeling, because somehow she felt both more terrified and yet safer than she ever had before – _at that same time_.

After that, neither of them said anything. They could hear the loud _whir_ of Sarah's hair dryer upstairs, and knew that their time "alone" wasn't going to last much longer, but that was alright. They'd sorted out something that was very important, after all. They hadn't _exactly_ addressed the issue of what the label on their relationship was, but that was almost secondary. After all, they'd talked about what they were to each other, which was even more important.

He rested his forehead against the top of her head, closing his eyes since his face was buried in her hair anyway. For once, things made sense to him, and it was a relief that he hadn't even realized that he'd needed.


	32. I Still Do

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: I realize that this story is called "December," and it's now February. And my good friend MonkeyPajamas pointed out that in the story it's still December 26 (meaning that most of it has taken place over only 4 days). I'm not really sure how far this story is going to go, only that it won't go past December 31… Of course at my pace, that means there could still be many, many chapters to go. We'll see. Jane and Kurt are the ones in charge here._

Sarah slowed as she approached the doorway of the kitchen. Not that she expected them to be doing anything inappropriate, but she was fairly sure that her brother and Jane would certainly be doing something quite adorable, and she hated to disturb them. Her assumption was proven correct a minute later when she found them reluctantly moving their chairs apart so that they could stand up. Pausing for a second before entering the kitchen, she smiled at the shy way they seemed to gravitate back together only seconds later, standing up and then moving toward each other even before their chairs were pushed in all the way, as if a magnetic force was pulling them towards each other.

Wanting them to know that she was there so they didn't feel like she'd snuck up on them, and knowing that they were distracted, she made a slightly exaggerated entrance into the room behind them. She made her footsteps a little heavier than they needed to be, and her voice a little louder as she called, "Hey, guys," adding in a normal tone, "How's everything down here?"

She'd literally just watched them move apart, stand up and then glue themselves back to each other's sides, Kurt's arm across Jane's shoulders and her arm around his lower back. As if they'd practiced it, they turned their heads toward each other, looking back at her over their respective shoulders, both smiling happily.

"Okay, wow, that was seriously impressive," she told them, shaking her head and laughing.

"Hey, mom! Can we play a game?" Sawyer called from the couch.

"He's alive!" Sarah called, glancing past the pair in front of her to where her son still lay under the same blanket on the couch, not having moved in who knew how long.

"Haha," Sawyer said, making a face at her and then, for his uncle's benefit, rolling his eyes with a grin. "Can we? And Jane and Uncle Kurt can play, too."

Kurt felt Jane tense just a little beside him. She'd been to his apartment for a game night, once, a long time ago… back at a time that she didn't like to remember. She didn't have experience with many games, and while she knew that she could always _learn_ , she felt a prickle of the all too familiar feeling, the one that she was slowly feeling less and less… the feeling that everyone knew so many things that she didn't.

"Don't worry," Kurt suddenly whispered in her ear, leaning his scruffy cheek against hers, "You can be on my team. Whichever game it is. It's a good excuse to sit close together, so no one sees our cards." She felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight and fly quickly in formation, and yet in a thousand different directions at once.

"What if it's a game with no cards?" she whispered back. She already knew for a fact that not all games used cards, after all, though she could only think of one example.

"I don't care," he replied quietly. "It was just an excuse anyway." His eyebrows rose and fell playfully as he leaned back just enough to look at her, and she chuckled as she just shook her head at him.

"Okay you two, we see you whispering over there. Wait to make your winning strategy at least until we've decided what game to play," Sarah told them teasingly.

Sawyer was watching them too, and he exchanged a look with his mother with was far less amused than she was, rolling his eyes in thinly veiled disgust – which Jane and his Uncle Kurt found to be extremely amusing, from the faces they were making. Attempting to ignore the adults' obnoxious behavior, Sawyer got down to the important issue. "What games _are_ there here, anyway?" he asked.

Kurt and Sarah looked at each other questioningly. "Don't look at me," Kurt told her. "I wouldn't know what games there are, where they are, or when the last time they were played was…" _Because I haven't been here in more than twice as long as Sawyer's been alive,_ he thought, but he left that part unsaid. Sarah already knew that, of course.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know…" Sarah replied, shaking her head at him. "They were in the garage – which I have to say, I'd forgotten how much of a pain a detached garage is in the winter – when we got here, but thankfully I brought them inside before the snow got crazy," she said, walking to the hall closet and looking up on the shelf at the top. Reaching up, she pulled down a stack of boxes and walked back into the kitchen.

"So we have Monopoly, Candy Land, Checkers, Scrabble and… Oh! A puzzle with 500 pieces," she said, holding up a box that showed a picture of an intricately drawn black and white abstract design. Jane stared at it with interest. It almost reminded her of her tattoos.

Kurt's hand left her shoulder and moved towards the base of her neck where it stopped, his thumb brushing against the spot where he knew that the oil derrick tattoo protruded visibly. She wasn't sure if he'd done it as a direct reaction to the design on the puzzle, but he was obviously thinking the same thing that she was. This made her smile, as she felt sparks start at the spot his thumb had just been, radiating outward from there. After a few swipes, his hand stilled in that very spot.

Sawyer considered the choice carefully, then looked up at his mother with hope in his eyes. "Can we play Monopoly, mom? Please?" Jane watched in amusement as Sarah rolled her eyes, shaking her head slowly.

"I knew I should have left this one in the garage," she said, shaking her head.

" _Please_ , mom? I promise not to be an… what did you say I was being last time?" Sawyer asked.

Both Jane and Kurt watched this exchange in amusement. Clearly, something had happened the last time they'd played this game.

"I believe I told you that you were an over-competitive adversary," Sarah replied with a smile, knowing that her audience was enjoying this exchange.

"Mom, I promise, I won't be such a…" he looked as if he was trying to rewind his thoughts to what she'd just told him, but without success. "I'll be nice and calm," he said when he couldn't find the words. " _Please?_ "

Sarah sighed heavily, as if she knew that she would regret saying yes, but at the same time, wanting to acquiesce. " _Fine_ ," she sighed dramatically. "For _one_ hour, max. Whatever is going on after one hour, we stop."

Sawyer grinned from ear to ear, whereas Sarah looked visible wary. "Monopoly has become his favorite lately," Sarah said, turning to Jane and Kurt. "He gets a little… intense…"

Kurt looked at Sawyer seriously, narrowing his eyes at him as if he was getting ready to interrogate him. "Good," he said, "it'll be even more satisfying when I beat him."

"Oh, boy," Sarah groaned, shaking her head. "So _you're_ where he gets this from?"

"You're going to play, right mom?" Sawyer asked, looking at Sarah with concern.

Sighing again, Sarah nodded. "Yes, I'm going to play." Her tone suggested that she might be slightly less than excited about playing, however.

"Jane, what about you?" Sawyer asked. He seemed to be doing his best wide-eyed silent pleading as he looked up at her.

"Uh, yeah, of course," she replied, feeling slightly on the spot.

"Jane's never played before, so she's going to be on my team this time," Kurt added, once again moving his finger across the oil derrick tattoo, which made her smile as she tried her best not to shiver. She knew she was blushing again, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Sawyer looked at the two of them suspiciously, pausing for a minute before he nodded. "Okay, but as long as I'm around, _no kissing_."

Kurt was the only one of the three adults to keep a straight face, as both Jane and Sarah either bit their lip or covered their mouth in order to hold in their laughter. Nodding seriously at his nephew, Kurt said only, "Agreed."

As they turned to walk toward the family room, Jane leaned her cheek close to his so that she could whisper, "That's not a _regular_ rule in Monopoly, is it?"

He grinned back at her, moving his face down beside _her_ ear, and replied, "Not that I've ever heard… We'll have to check the rules." Before straightening up again, he brushed his cheek just enough against hers for his scruff to scratch lightly against her skin.

Even just that one movement was enough to renew the smile on her face. _This can't be real_ , she thought to herself for the thousandth time.

They settled themselves on the floor, Jane and Kurt just automatically sitting down with their backs to the fireplace once again. Sawyer was very serious as he set up the game board and handed out the money that they each started with.

"The great thing about this game," Kurt whispered in Jane's ear, "is that I don't have to put the bad guys in jail."

Jane looked down at the board and saw the corner space labeled _Jail_ , then whispered back, "So how do people end up there?"

"Well… it's sort of random, actually," he said, and noticed the look of surprise on Jane's face.

 _You randomly end up in jail?_ That seemed to her like a strange idea.

After thinking about it for a few seconds, she smiled and looked at him knowingly, leaning over to whisper, "But deep down you sort of _wish_ you were in charge of catching the bad guys and putting them in jail in this game, right?"

"Well, there aren't really any bad guys…" he replied near her ear, but she could tell from his tone that she was right.

"Uh-huh," she said, and he could tell that she was just humoring him. "Whatever you say," she added. He chuckled at her, turning to face her and leaning back slightly to look at her in amazement.

 _Of course I sort of wish I could put the bad guys of Monopoly-land in jail. If there_ _ **were**_ _any._

And then just like that, it hit him, out of nowhere and all of a sudden. It was as if everything around them froze and his vision tunneled into only what he could see in front of him – which was _not_ Jane, to his surprise, but instead, a fuzzy, black and white image from long ago. No, not just an image, because _she_ was moving just as if she was alive and if he hadn't already known what his brain was doing, he would have sworn that she was real – despite not being in full color.

Yes, there beside him as he stared down at her he saw Taylor once again, five years old and bursting with excitement, to the point that she couldn't sit still. She'd been begging Kurt and Sarah to teach her to play Monopoly, and they'd finally agreed. She'd plopped herself down beside Kurt, leaning against his side in a way not so dissimilarly to the way Jane was at that moment.

 _What do we do first, Kurt?_ she asked him, leaning her cheek against his arm.

 _Well,_ he told her patiently, smiling at her infectious enthusiasm. _First Sarah is going to give out the money._ He remembered that even from their childhood, Sarah liked to be in charge of the money as well as the properties. Basically, any chance she got to have power over her big brother.

 _Can I roll the die?_ Taylor asked, looking up at him with those big eyes of hers. He never _had_ been able to say no to her… not unless it was absolutely necessary – and even then, it was incredibly difficult.

 _Of course you can, Taylor, just wait a minute. We're almost ready._ He saw himself put his arm around her shoulders and squeeze her in a half hug, in an attempt to get her to sit still long enough for them to set up. His arm dropped from her shoulders then, and he had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. No, not sinking, _plunging_.

 _I should have held onto her,_ he thought, despite the fact that he knew that this didn't make sense. Forcing himself to look at the little girl who sat beside him in his imagination, he smiled sadly.

And this was where everything suddenly became different from the flashbacks he'd had of Taylor up to this point. Everything else had just been memories. Suddenly, she was looking at him _now_. He could just feel it.

 _I'm sorry, kid,_ he told her sadly. _I should've protected you._ Despite the fact that she'd been bubbling with excitement only a few seconds before, he saw that she was now looking into his eyes calmly, sitting perfectly still.

This was not a memory. He'd had no reason to say those words to her back when she was alive. This was him actually talking to her _now_ , even though it was impossible. Even though he knew she wasn't really there.

 _Don't be sad,_ she told him. _It wasn't your fault._ Her eyes were every bit as… as _Taylor_ as he remembered them, and just as full of love for him as they'd always been. That may have been what made it hurt even more. Through all those twenty five years since she'd been gone, he'd felt that he should have done more… _something_ more. That somehow he could have saved her. How could he possibly deserve for her to be looking up at him the same way she had back when she'd been alive? Back when he'd actually taken care of her and kept her safe?

Looking in her eyes – even knowing that she wasn't really there and therefore _couldn't_ really be looking at him like _anything_ , he saw one thing he'd never seen there before – a seriousness and an understanding that Taylor had never had. She'd simply been too young.

 _But… it… I could've… I should never have… He…_ All of the words with which he'd been beating himself for all those years attempted to come out at the same time, suddenly jumbled together and preventing him from forming a coherent thought.

But Taylor just shook her head and smiled at him sadly. _I know how much you loved me,_ she told him, and he was fairly sure that his heart was going to break then and there.

 _I did_ , he said softly, _I still do_.

Taylor just nodded. _I know,_ she said, _and I loved you more than anyone in the world... well, except my mom._ She smiled at that thought, then continued. _I've been watching you. You've done_ _ **so much**_ _good for some many people… but Kurt, you never had anything to make up for – I know that's why you did all the things you did along the way._

He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head and continued before he had a chance.

 _It's time to let it all go,_ she told him _._

His face must have reflected panic immediately, because her expression changed quickly then, as she saw that he had misunderstood her.

 _No, no, not_ _ **everything**_ _, not all of the memories, only the parts that hurt_ , she said soothingly _. I'm not telling you not to remember me at all. But you have to let the rest of it go, because more than anyone else in the world, you deserve to be happy. I don't want you to remember me and be sad. Not anymore. You've already put yourself through so much… And you never deserved any of it. But it's going to be okay._ _ **You're**_ _going to be okay._

He felt himself shaking his head, and he didn't know if his action was real or if he was still stuck inside the vision. From somewhere that sounded very far away, he heard a familiar voice. Not Taylor's.

 _Jane's_.

He couldn't make out the words, but the voice was soothing, and the fact that it was Jane eased his thoughts a little. Just as the tight feeling in his chest relaxed a tiny bit, he was Taylor smile knowingly, and he somehow felt that the two events had to be connected. And though Jane's proximity helped him relax, he was still focused on Taylor.

Probably because this time was so different, because it had turned into a conversation, and not just a memory, he felt a finality to it that scared him. Even though he _knew_ that he wasn't really talking to Taylor Shaw, his best friend who'd died twenty five years ago, still, the conversation was something that he'd been needing for a very long time… and because of that, he want it to end. After all, he might never get to have another one.

He looked back at Taylor, feeling desperation creeping over him. She was still beside him, but standing now, not too much taller than he was, even though she was at her full height and he was sitting on the floor. The little girl who wasn't really there smiled at him sadly once again, hesitated, and then almost without warning, threw her arms around his shoulders in a hug so tight, he would have sworn that she was _not_ a figment of his imagination… even though he knew with absolute certainty that she was _not there_.

 _How can it be both at once?_ he wondered as he held onto her as tightly as he'd ever held onto anyone in his life – possibly tighter, even.

 _I love you, Kurt_ , she said, and then she whispered something that didn't really make sense to him. He just barely heard her, he was so choked up on his own emotions, and her last few words came out so softly… but he swore she said something that sounded like, _And she does, too._ He didn't understand that part, but he pushed it to back of his mind for the time being.

There was a burning sensation in his chest, one that he suspected was a mixture of extreme happiness and complete and utter sadness. He tried to hold onto her as tightly as he could – the way he felt as though he should have all those years ago, never letting her go, never letting anything bad happen to her. Unfortunately, of course, since she wasn't really there, he couldn't actually hold onto her.

Despite feeling like his arms were clamped around her, he watched the little girl, the ghost of Taylor, or the manifestation of her in his mind – however he wanted to explain her – step back and drop her arms to her sides. She smiled at him again, that same adoring smile that she had always had on her face when she'd looked up at him, and in that second he swore that his mind flashed back to every time she'd looked at him that way – and there were _thousands_ , if not more– each in rapid fire succession, none of the images remaining for more than a millisecond. The images ran together in a parade of those five years of his life, in reality only taking seconds.

 _I'm losing my mind,_ he thought. _And yet… I don't want it to end._

Suddenly, the black and white tunnel began fading from his field of vision, and Taylor with it.

 _Taylor, stay,_ he told her frantically, knowing that it was impossible, because she wasn't actually there, and yet at the same time knowing that he _couldn't_ let her go. Not _again_. He'd already lost her once, in the most horrible way, and he'd been broken by it all his life. The pieces had gone back together, but they'd never been quite right. Then he'd lost her again, after thinking that he'd found her, and in some ways that had been worse. How could he now lose her a _third_ time? No, he just _couldn't_. It was too painful.

 _I'm not going anywhere,_ she told him, staring into his eyes calmly once again, taking a slow step back from him, and then another. _I never left you, and I'm not going to._

 _But…_ he said – thought he said. He couldn't tell where the line was between reality and whatever was going on inside his head.

 _Sssshhhh,_ she told him. _It's going to be okay. I'm still here. And you have Jane. I've seen the way she looks at you… you've both been through hell, separately and together. But you have each other. You_ _ **need**_ _each other. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of me…_

Oh course, Kurt had thought this more than once, but it seemed disloyal to Taylor somehow to tell her this.

Suddenly it was as though she was reading his mind, because she shook her head and looked at him fondly. _It's_ _ **fine**_ _, Kurt. It means you were thinking of me._

He felt himself panic as she took yet another step back, getting farther and farther away.

 _Now listen to me one more time, Kurt Weller,_ she said, now from across the family room. Somehow, her eyes held his locked on her despite the distance, and he could hear her loud and clear, even though she was whispering. _You_ _ **did not**_ _fail me. You need to stop telling yourself that. You were the best thing in my life, for my_ _ **whole life**_ _. Some people live eighty years or more and don't have anyone love them that much. I was_ _ **lucky**_ _to have you._ She paused for a few seconds, and he continued to watch her, unable to look away. _And now,_ she continued simply, _Jane is. Just don't let the past get in the way of that. Promise me._

 _I promise,_ he whispered, realizing suddenly that there were tears falling down his cheeks. He didn't care, simply let them fall, in part because he had no energy left to lift his hand to wipe them away.

Taylor smiled at him again, not the sad smile, but the one he'd loved so much, the one that had been the reason that he'd never been able to say no to her.

 _I'm always here,_ she said quietly, and yet her words once again rang loudly in his ears. _Right there._ He felt his chest ache, and he knew without having to wonder what the 'there' she was referring to must be. It made sense that she would be in his heart. She always had been, after all.

As he stared at her, he watched her begin to fade before his eyes until she simply disappeared. This time, instead of panicking, he felt an unfamiliar sense of calm, as if some sort of weight had been lifted off of him. In reality, he supposed that one had.

Blinking, he saw the black and white surroundings of his dream fade and suddenly he was back in the present, still in exactly the same spot, but now once again sitting on the floor beside Jane with the fire crackling behind them. Sarah and Sawyer, who'd been sitting across the board from him on two of the remaining three sides, were nowhere to be seen.

He felt Jane's right hand on his back, moving in circles and her left, he noticed when he looked down, was gripping his left hand tightly. Looking over at her, he saw a worried expression on her face, which relaxed slightly when his eyes met hers.

 _Finally,_ she thought as she smiled up at him in relief. She'd been starting to worry. His memories of Taylor had never lasted that long before, nor had he ever looked so distraught by then.

He was slightly dismayed, but not surprised, to find that the tears he'd felt on his cheeks a few minutes ago hadn't been a figment of his imagination, and he swatted at them with his right hand.

Jane was watching him carefully, wishing there was something she could do. By this point, however, she'd seen him go through enough memories of Taylor that she knew that she was doing all she could do. Still, this time it felt different, and she wondered what he'd seen.

"I talked to her," he said quietly, looking down at his lap. "It was a memory at first, but then… it changed. It was a conversation, as if she was sitting where you are. She was still five, but it wasn't twenty-five years ago. It was now."

Nodding silently, Jane simply continued doing exactly what she'd been doing that whole time. _So this time Taylor took_ _ **my**_ _place_. _That seems fair._ The thought was just a little uncomfortable to her, guilt creeping into the corners of her mind. After all, she'd actively tried to take Taylor's place in his life in order to trick him, to advance a terrorist organization's agenda, and had caused him immeasurable pain by doing it.

 _That was not you,_ she told herself yet again. _That was Remi, and you know it. And this is not about you right now._

Jane snapped herself back to the present as Kurt continued talking.

"She said…" his voice was already shaking, and he took a deep breath. "I told her that I was sorry, and she said that it wasn't my fault."

"Because it _wasn't_ ," Jane murmured emphatically in agreement.

He almost smiled then, and continued tiredly. Somehow it seemed fitting that Jane would agree with Taylor. "She said that she loved me – more than anyone except her mom – and that she knew that I loved her."

As he remembered the conversation then, Taylor's words suddenly made sense to him. _And she does, too._

" _She" was Jane_. _Of course she was. Taylor had been saying 'She loves you, too.'_

"And that I never…" Stopping mid-sentence once again when words failed him temporarily, he felt her squeeze his hand. He inhaled sharply, and his voice dropped to a whisper as he continued. The emotion threatened to overcome him, but he was determined to get the words out. "…that I never had anything to make up for."

Of course, this had always been obvious to everyone except Kurt, and Jane smiled sadly, leaning her cheek against his arm. "Of course you didn't," she whispered gently. After a pause, she asked, "Did she say anything else?"

He nodded, still not looking up. "She said that I… I needed to let go of the parts of the memories that hurt. And that I was going to be okay."

Jane realized only then that there were tears in her own eyes, but she didn't dare release either of her hands from where they were just then to try to wipe them away. Letting go of him was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I asked her to stay," he said sadly. "She was starting to fade, and I could feel that it was ending."

Jane leaned into him harder, the only thing she could think to do. She couldn't remember her past, of course, but she could only imagine how much it had hurt him to try so desperately to hold onto something he'd lost while feeling it being ripped away again. In a way, that was what had happened to her with Roman and Shepherd. She'd found them, but for all intents and purposes they had been lost to her even before that.

"But she said that she'd never left, and she wasn't going to."

He sounded so completely exhausted of all emotion, and once again Jane wished with everything inside her that there was something that she could do. With a sigh, she felt her own tears trickling down her cheeks faster and faster.

"She hugged me tightly, the same way she used to. The way kids do. _Fiercely._ I tried to hold onto her this time, not let her go, but… I couldn't. _Of course_ I couldn't… And she told me that I…" He breathed in and out slowly several times, feeling the last of his composure faltering, before he was able to continue in a whisper. "She said that I didn't fail her, and to stop telling myself that. That she had been lucky to have me. And that now…"

He'd trailed off, not speaking for more than a minute, and she thought he'd gotten lost in thought again, so she did the only thing she could do, and waited. Finally, he took a deep breath and continued.

"She said that now… _You_ were." He turned and looked down at her for the first time since he'd started talking. Jane had to bite her lip at the extra swell of unexpected emotion just then. "She made me promise not to let the past get in the way of… of _us_ , I guess. This."

"Wow," Jane whispered. It felt inadequate, but it was the only word that came to mind. She was simply overwhelmed by everything he'd just told her, especially by the fact that she'd been mentioned at all.

Kurt smiled sadly, letting out a long breath. "Yeah," he sighed. "It felt like… it felt _final_. I don't know how else to explain it. Like maybe…"

"But she said she wasn't leaving, right?" Jane asked him, seeing him begin to despair at the idea that he was somehow losing her yet _again_. He'd already lost her twice, after all, and she knew what even the thought of losing her did to him.

"Yeah," he managed, his voice shaking slightly.

Squeezing his hand tightly, she pulled her right arm as far across his back as she could, holding on as tightly as she could. She wished she knew what else to do or say, but she didn't, so they sat there together in silence. It wasn't awkward – on the contrary, somehow it was comforting.

"What do you miss most about her?" Jane hadn't even realized that she'd said it out loud until she felt him shift to look at her again. He seemed just as surprised by the question as she was.

"I'm sorry, it's none of my—" Jane began quickly, feeling immensely guilty for having said the words out loud. She'd been wondering, just out of curiosity, and she was somewhat mortified that she'd let it slip out.

But Kurt was already shaking his head at her protest. "She loved me unconditionally…" he replied before she could finish her sentence. He stopped and looked surprised at himself, as if he'd never realized that he thought that before the words had tumbled out of his mouth.

"My mom…" he began slowly, "well, she had left long before that. My dad… I mean, I guess we had a decent relationship at that time, when Taylor was still around… I looked up to him but… he had a _horrible_ temper even then. Sarah… I mean, she was my _sister_. We were alright… We had the usual sibling fights. But with Taylor…"

He shook his head as if he was baffled by what he was saying. "It was like no matter what I did, I knew she was on my side. I knew there was nothing I could do that would change that." Pausing, he seemed to be thinking hard before continuing. "And I guess _maybe_ she wasn't the only one in my life who felt like that about me… but at the time, to me, it _felt_ that way." Pursing his lips for a moment as a pained look crossed his face, he added, "And there was never time for her to prove otherwise."

Jane felt tears in her eyes starting all over again. And even though she knew that none of this was about _her_ ,she couldn't help but think about how many different ways she herself had let him down in such a short time. No matter how much she didn't come close to deserving to hear something like that said about her, it made her feel an emptiness inside her that started growing at that moment. Because no matter how deep her feelings for him ran, and no matter how hard she might try to atone for her sins, he could never make such a profoundly moving claim about _her_. Because she _hadn't_ loved him unconditionally, had she? She wished that she could have said that she _had_ , but that would have been a lie. After all, she remembered all too well _hating_ him for letting her be tortured by the CIA, just as one example.

At that moment, she hated _herself_ for having hated him, even knowing full well that that she was oversimplifying everything. Not only that, but that _she'd_ been the one to ask him the question – though inadvertently – and that she couldn't very well take his answer personally. It was about _Taylor,_ not her.

 _So why does it sting so badly then?_ she wondered.

 _Maybe because you wanted so desperately to be Taylor, and it's just one more reminder that you're_ _ **not**_ _,_ the voice in her head suggested. _You wanted to be important to him, and Taylor's importance has the innocence of a five year old. You didn't even have that innocence when you_ _ **were**_ _a five year old. But none of it is your fault. You are_ _ **Jane**_ _, after all, not Remi. You want to tell yourself that your love for him is worthless… but it's_ _ **not**_ _._

He hadn't thought about his answer any more than she'd thought about the question in the first place. They'd both been equally surprised at both outbursts, but he had recovered more quickly. Sitting there watching her, he saw her absorbing his words, and watched her face change. He had answered her honestly, and the question hadn't been about her, so why did she look so devastated?

 _And she does, too,_ he heard Taylor saying in his head once again. _She… Jane. She loves you. You just told her that what you missed most about Taylor was her unconditional love._

Understanding crept over him slowly as he watched her face for more clues. He saw her try to put up the mask that she used to wear, up until a few days ago anyway, but less and less since then – the one that kept everyone out – but it seemed that she didn't have the strength, or that the effort required was too great. He knew that logically he had nothing to feel sorry about, because he'd simply answered his question…

Except that he remembered then when he'd told her when she'd first come back, when things had been so extremely tense between them, that he'd wanted her to be Taylor.

 _More than anything_.

He closed his eyes, feeling terrible now. Because if her thoughts had gone in the direction that he thought they had, then he'd just rubbed it all in. What she'd heard had probably sounded something like, "I wanted you to be Taylor because _**she**_ loved me unconditionally…" Even if it wasn't quite that, it was something that was making her face contort in dismay.

 _She probably feels like_ _ **she**_ _failed_ _ **you**_ _, the same way you've always felt about Taylor._

Whatever it was that had her so upset, he had to do something.

She was trying her best to talk herself down – but she had so little experience doing anything of the sort that she was still woefully bad at it. _To be fair, Taylor never went through a fraction of what you did_ , she reminded herself _. She was_ _ **five**_ _. It's a lot easier for a five year old to love someone unconditionally. Their worlds are much simpler, much smaller._ But the words were of little comfort. It seemed like nothing she told herself made her feel any better.

 _What does that even mean, to love someone unconditionally?_ she asked herself. _I can't even imagine. To say that you would love them_ _ **no matter what**_ _they did? But how could you make a promise like that? There are some things that are just… unforgiveable._ After all, as far as Jane was concerned, she knew a fair bit about people who'd done horrible things, things that _should not_ be forgiven… herself being one of them.

 _But don't you love him?_ the voice in her head asked kindly.

 _Of course,_ she admitted sheepishly, unwilling to say anything more than that single acknowledgement. Even this was a big step for her.

 _So even after everything he's done… after letting the CIA take you… You still love him?_

Jane saw where this was going. She wasn't going to let her words get twisted around by her subconscious. _But I_ _ **hated**_ _him!_ she protested. _I remember how_ _ **much**_ _I hated him._

 _And yet…_ the voice said calmly, _Here you are._

Clearing his throat, Kurt broke the heavy silence. "I was _ten_ , Jane," he said without pretense, knowing at least which general direction her thoughts had gone, and that she would understand what he was saying without any further explanation. "She was five. It's not the same."

She nodded, swallowing hard and trying to move slowly away from him without even realizing it. "I know," she said, but her voice betrayed her. She didn't believe him, and she was already trying to withdraw into her shell.

"Do you?" he asked, looking down at her. She met his eyes only reluctantly, and suddenly they had switched roles – now _he_ was holding onto _her_. "I don't _want_ you to be Taylor, okay? I want you to be _Jane_. And all the messiness that comes with that. I wouldn't change _anything_ about it all, because it got us where we are."

Looking up at him skeptically, she stared into his eyes for almost a minute before she asked, " _Any of it?"_

 _What about your father killing your childhood best friend?_ she wondered. _Like a stranger trying to pass herself off as said friend in order for a terrorist cell to infiltrate the FBI?_

The way she was staring at him, he could tell that it was inconceivable to her that he would choose not to change the past. That made him wonder if maybe _she_ would, if she had the chance, but he would leave that for another discussion.

"I'm not saying I'd _want_ to go through it all again," he replied with a sincere smile. A chuckle that came out sounding more like a choked sob escaped from her then, and she couldn't help smile back at him then, her eyes still full of tears, because that was perhaps the understatement of the year. "But for better or for worse, we don't have that option," he continued. "The past is… _done_. There's no changing it. I don't want it to get in the way of what we have _now_." She nodded quickly, the nod that showed that she was working hard to convince _herself_ of what she tried to pretend she felt.

A sadness crept into his smile then, and he could feel it even though he couldn't see his own expression. "Just like I promised Taylor." Her expression changed, too, and he wondered if he looked as sad as she suddenly did. But something occurred to him then, something that made his smile change once again, and the sadness seemed to evaporate. "And I want to make the same promise to _you_."

Biting her lip, Jane shook her head, now suddenly looking scared. "You don't have to promise me anything," she said quietly. It was almost as though she was begging him _not_ to.

"Of course I don't," he said, smiling tiredly this time. "But I want to."

He watched as she closed her eyes, a slightly pained look on her face and her body tensing. It was scary for her to believe things like that – that someone would promise her, well, _any_ kind of loyalty right now, he knew, but that was okay. She just needed practice.

When she sighed tiredly, he realized just how worn out he felt, himself. It was still afternoon, probably a few hours until dinner time. "Let's go lay down for a little while," he suggested. "I think we can let Sarah handle dinner tonight."

Her eyes opened slowly, and she looked relieved for the change of topic. "Wow, things have really changed I guess, if you're willingly leaving the cooking to Sarah," she replied, attempting to use her joke to lighten her mood. She, too, was exhausted, but she couldn't resist giving him a hard time.

"Well," he said, drawing out the word the same way that she always found so adorable, "Food is important, but I need _you_ more." Realizing that his words could have been misconstrued, he started to open his mouth to backtrack slightly, but she just smiled and leaned her head around the front of his shoulder, pressing her temple gently against his chest, feeling both of his arms come up around her tightly.

"Okay," he said pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "let's get up." She grumbled something about not wanting to get up, but his arms dropped from around her and he moved away. He stood up, so of course she did the same, taking the hand that he offered her, just as he usually did.

"I forgot to ask you," Kurt said as he pulled her up slowly, looking down at the Monopoly board still in front of them, "What happened to Sarah and Sawyer?"

"Well, since you guys had cleared the cars off," Jane told him, "when she realized that you might appreciate a little …space… she took Sawyer and they went out for a little bit."

"There's not much around here," he said, "I wonder where they went."

"I don't know," Jane told him. "Sarah just said that she thought I would have better luck than she would with whatever was bothering you, and they'd be back later. I'm pretty sure Sawyer just considers this, like, a rain delay or something," she said. "He still expects to get his gave of Monopoly."

"Of course," Kurt said with a smile. He shook his head at his sister's foresight and consideration. "And Sarah was right," he told her, leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead, then keeping the bridge of his nose leaned against the spot where he'd kissed her. "You are definitely the one person I want beside me for all of this." He squeezed her hand, which he had been holding since they'd stood up, lifted his head and looked into her eyes with a smile, which was reflected back at him in her face. "I feel like we've done nothing but sleep today," he told her as they started walking toward the stairs. "Or at least, we've done nothing but go to sleep and wake up, over and over again."

"Yeah," Jane agreed, "it does feel like all we've done."

He was still processing what he'd seen in the family room, "talking" to Taylor, and he imagined that he would be for a long time… He felt drained, and yet, somehow he felt more at peace, less haunted than he had in almost as long as he could remember.

"All I know is I'm exhausted," Kurt replied, yawning. "I guess seeing ghosts takes it out of you." She squeezed his hand then, trying to allay the slightly self-deprecating tone in his voice.

Looking over at him then, the expression on her face said, _Don't do that_ , and he just looked down and shrugged, feeling exhausted both mentally and physically. A nap was what he needed, he decided. A nap with Jane, well, that was even better. Maybe this time, they'd both sleep peacefully.

They made it to the bottom of the stairs and he stopped, looking up towards the top with a sigh. He willed himself not to see any of the million different times when Taylor had run up or down those stairs, with or without those damn rain boots that she'd loved so much. He waited, feeling Jane looking at him, and was surprised when for once, he didn't see any sign of Taylor.

Smiling in surprise, he exhaled the breath he'd been holding without even realizing it. There had been a time when he'd thought that Jane was Taylor, of course, and he remembered a feeling of immense relief that he'd found her after so long. This was different, of course. When he'd thought he'd found her alive, that had been… he'd felt elation like he'd never imagined he could feel. And when he'd found out that he'd been wrong, that Taylor been dead all those years after all… it had been complicated, obviously, but what he'd felt had certainly been the opposite of elation.

And now? Well, it obviously wasn't the same feeling of relief that he'd had when Patterson had said that Jane's DNA proved that she was Taylor. It was different now – of course it was. But even though he'd lost her twice, and he knew that she was never coming back, even still… suddenly, he felt a different kind of relief at the thought that she wasn't gone. After what he'd seen, or imagined, or whatever it had been that he'd experienced that afternoon, that much he knew. At least, she wasn't any more gone than she had been for all these years, and somehow, strangely, maybe even less so. After all, he'd talked to her after twenty five years of only _wishing_ that he could. And no, he knew that he hadn't _actually_ talked to her, but he _felt_ like he'd talked to her, and in the end, maybe the distinction was irrelevant.

However you wanted to frame it, he _felt_ better. Lighter.

A thought struck him, and he felt surprise radiate through from his head to his toes. _Is this what closure feels like?_ he wondered.

He'd been chasing it for almost his whole life, and it had been just a word, a concept that seemed completely impossible, and something that he'd assumed that he'd never achieve, as much as he'd craved it. Could this be it?

Jane had turned and stepped onto the first step, still holding his hand and now facing him, the step putting them closer to eye level with each other than usual. She simply waited and watched. She'd grown accustomed to the look on his face when he saw Taylor, but this was different. He looked lost in thought, yes, but this wasn't the same. She stood in front of him patiently, her fingers moving slowly over his without letting go.

His expression was almost a smile, she noticed, and somehow he looked both happy and sad at the same time. Finally his eyes focused on her, and as he realized that she was there in front of him, the smile on his face changed into one unlike any smile she'd ever seen. She looked at him questioningly, wondering what was different this time. Every other time that he'd been lost in thought since they'd been in Clearfield it had upset him, after all.

"Jane," he said breathlessly.

"Hey," she said, feeling like something important was happening, but unable to figure out what. "You're… okay, right?"

"I don't even know how to explain it but… _yeah_ … I am," he whispered, putting his free hand up to her cheek and moving his thumb back and forth.

"Good," she said with relief. When he continued to stare at her, not saying anything else, she tilted her head to the side, into his hand, and asked, "Nap time?"

" _Yes_ ," he replied emphatically. "You and me. Let's get moving before I fall over." The emotional roller coaster he'd been on in the past few hours had left him drained. He dropped his hand slowly from her cheek and she turned, still holding his hand in hers as they walked up the stairs.

 _So this is what it's like,_ he thought, following her up the stairs in awe. After all of those years, it turned out that only Jane had been able to help him find what he'd been looking for.

 _Closure._


	33. You're Mistaken

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

They didn't say anything as they walked up the stairs, or the few steps down the hall to the small bedroom. It still felt like stepping back in time to be inside it, but somehow, Kurt no longer found the feeling in the room to be oppressive.

Jane let go of his hand and knelt down to her bag, looking for her phone. She hadn't touched it in more than twenty-four hours, but it didn't appear that she'd missed anything. It wasn't as though she usually got many phone calls or texts, and really none that weren't work related. There was a text from Sarah, however, saying they'd gone to a shopping center in a neighboring town. Jane began typing out a reply.

 _Things are fine here… going better. We're going to take a nap._

The three dots at the bottom of the screen told Jane that Sarah was already replying.

 _We'll pick up dinner and be back around six,_ Sarah's message said. Then a second bubble popped up immediately afterwards, which said, _Have a good nap._

Jane smiled at her phone, and then turned to see that Kurt was by the window, staring out it in the direction of Taylor's house once again. She approached him slowly, noticing than again, the expression on his face seemed different. More peaceful. Smiling hopefully as she walked over to him, she was glad to see that instead of being transfixed by the view of Taylor's house, he heard her coming and turned to look at her with a smile. As soon as she was within arms' reach, his hand went to her waist, pulling her closer as it snaked around her.

"I texted Sarah and let her know that things were good here, and that we were going to take a nap," Jane told him. "She said she'd pick up dinner before they came back in a few hours." 

"Perfect," Kurt said, smiling tiredly and turning to walk back towards the bed, propelling her along with him. It didn't escape her attention that he waited for her to climb into the bed first, and she scooted over towards the wall before turning back to face him as he folded himself under the blankets beside her.

After he had settled himself, she asked, "So, are you purposely putting yourself between me and the door?"

With an expression that gave away nothing, he replied, "If I said yes, would you be upset?" She honestly couldn't tell if he was admitting guilt or asking a hypothetical question.

Her lips curled into a smile as she replied slowly, "Well, I suppose it would depend on the reason."

Moving closer to her and taking her hand in his, he replied, "And if I said that I _did_ purposely put myself between you and the door, because I wanted to be a buffer between you and the rest of the world, so that I could stop anything or anyone who wanted to hurt you?"

"That depends," she said simply, stifling a yawn as best she could. She didn't remember the bed being quite so heavenly comfortable before, and it was very possible that she wouldn't be awake much longer.

"On what?" he asked her curiously.

"Is that the truth? Or you just don't want me wandering away while you're sleeping?" she asked curiously, staring into his eyes. Their faces were close enough together that she had butterflies in her stomach again, but far enough away that they could watch each other carefully.

"Is it bad if it's both?" he asked reluctantly, adding in a whisper, "I just want to keep you safe." Releasing the hand that was holding hers, he reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, just as he'd done earlier, looking at her in what could only be described as devotion.

She smiled at him, but it wasn't quite a genuine smile – he could see pain behind it. "It's not a bad thing, I just…" Trailing off, she pursed her lips, her eyes giving away the storm of emotions happening inside her.

"I know," he told her simply, letting one finger trail along her cheek, "So you're going to have to _get_ used to it."

He rolled back slightly, so that he was laying on his back, and she snuggled into his side. "It's all going to be okay, Jane," he said soothingly as her head landed on his left shoulder. His left arm was curled behind her, holding her close, his fingers in her hair. Her left arm lay gently against his chest, and he felt sparks, even with two layers of cloth between their skin. His right hand came up and rested on top of her left, his fingers curling around hers slightly.

She hadn't moved or replied in over a minute, and if not for her breathing, which gave her away, he might have thought that she had fallen asleep. Then, out of nowhere, she whispered, "How can you know that?"

Pulling her closer still with his left arm, he replied, "Because if we can live through what we already have and end up here… clearly, we can get through anything." He felt her sigh against him, but he had a feeling that she still wasn't quite convinced, as much as he knew that she wanted to be. "Could things get tough again?" he continued, "Sure. But we already know something important."

"We do?" she asked, craning her neck against his shoulder to try to look up at him. "What's that?"

"That we belong together," he told her softly, stifling a yawn. Despite the awkward angle, he saw a smile light up her face – a genuine one this time. There was still uncertainty in her face, but at least she didn't look scared just then. "If we've only proven one thing, I think that's it," he added.

"Yeah," she agreed softly.

 _Tell her,_ the voice in his head instructed him.

 _Now?_ he thought. _It's only been four days!_

 _It's been a hell of a lot more than four days, and you know it,_ the voice replied. The voice _was_ right, he realized, and he knew it.

"I love you, Jane," he whispered. She'd just turned her head back down and leaned against him, and now her head snapped back up as if she was surprised. He felt her tense slightly, and she pushed herself up part way on her right arm, which had been under her. She was staring at him intensely, as if she thought maybe she'd misheard him and she was trying to make sense of his words. It was so damn _Jane_ of her.

With a smile, his voice a little louder, he said, "Yes, you heard me right. I love you." His right hand was still curled around her back, tracing the patch of skin that held the oil derrick tattoo, even though he couldn't see it just then. He was getting pretty good at reading her, and he watched her now, trying to hear her thoughts.

 _I told you so,_ the voice in her head said triumphantly.

 _But… what if…_ she thought, her mind suddenly unable to process words, much less form them.

 _Do you believe him?_ the voice asked.

While she would normally have made excuses, come up with reasons why it didn't make sense, this time she found that nothing came to mind, only the slight feeling of panic and her natural inclination to protect herself from emotions like love, which could come back around and hurt her so badly.

 _I…_ She took a deep breath. _Yes, I do._ She was surprised by her own certainty.

He watched her process the words, the wheels obviously turning loudly in her head. For a few seconds she seemed to be unsure, but she breathed deeply and her expression changed. Her smile started small, but grew slowly as she stared into his eyes as if she wanted to believe it, but wasn't quite sure if she could.

"You know that, right?" he asked. It was a rhetorical question, simply meant to emphasize what he'd said.

"I…" She started to say something, but found that once again, words were lodged in her throat. He smiled and shook his head. If she hadn't already known, for whatever reason, she knew now. Getting her to internalize it might take a while, but once again, he was fine with the "work" that that would involve.

Leaning forward, he stopped when the tips of their noses touched, still staring at her. He brushed his nose against hers gently, then continued forward until their lips made contact for a kiss that, while it wasn't a long one, also wasn't short. Not as innocent as some others, but also not demanding. When he leaned back, stopping with their noses pressed together again, he smiled at her once again.

"And yes, I'm sure," he told her quietly.

She still looked unsure, though not _unhappy_ , and his right hand was on her cheek again before he even realized it.

"I love you, too," she whispered. It sounded almost as though she was surprised.

As much as it made his heart soar, his forehead immediately creased with concern. "You know you don't have to say—"

"I know I don't," she said quietly. "I'm sure, too."

His face broke into a wide smile, and his left arm pulled her in tighter to him. Her head dropped back down against his shoulder, as she felt the rush of emotions draining the last bits of her energy.

When she sighed against him, he could feel her finally begin to finally relax again, and he leaned his face down towards her. His lips landed against her hairline, and he planted a kiss there, then leaned his nose and forehead into her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and not moving away. He could feel the events of the past few hours catching up with him, and felt the fuzziness of sleep creeping into his mind. His right hand left her to pull the blankets up over them more securely, and then, now under the covers, it found her hand laying on his chest and covered it securely.

"Best nap ever," he heard her whisper as he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

"Hasn't even started yet," he reminded her quietly.

"Still wins," she insisted, drowsiness making her feel slightly delirious, but meaning every word she said.

He chuckled gently, shifting slightly, just enough to kiss her forehead once again, then returned to where his face was resting against her hair.

"Yes, it does," he agreed in even less than a whisper against her hair.

Less than ten seconds later, he could tell from her breathing that she had fallen asleep, and he followed her almost immediately.

As emotionally charged as their last few days had been, they probably could have slept for more than a few hours, but the sound of Sarah and Sawyer returning from their trek into the outside world a few hours later made just enough noise downstairs that Jane was roused slowly back to consciousness. Before opening her eyes, she took stock of the information being received from her various other senses – this had become a habit that she had yet to break during her time with the CIA. Really, though it was no longer crucial to her survival to know what she would face when she opened her eyes, it seemed like being aware of her surroundings couldn't ever really be a _bad_ thing. Especially because ever since she'd come back to the FBI, waking up and sensing the world around her, sensing the _absence_ of the excruciating pain of CIA imprisonment, had been much more pleasant than it had been to wake up while she had been at Keaton's mercy. She decided that maybe _that_ was why she still did it – maybe she just enjoyed the feeling of where she was _not_. Not anymore.

This time, as the various parts of her body reported with their assessments of the situation in which she found herself, she couldn't help but smile. They'd both shifted in their sleep, and she'd ended up on her left side, facing the wall, with Kurt's chest pressed against her back, his right arm around her waist surprisingly tightly for someone who may or may not still be asleep. Her right hand was in his, pulled tightly around the front of her, and his head leaned forward against the back of her head so that his breath tickled her neck.

She didn't think that she'd ever in her life felt so happy, so safe, as she did just then, and she hoped that she wouldn't have to move anytime soon. Pulling her right hand closer to her, and in turn pulling his right arm more tightly around her side, she inadvertently gave away the fact that she was awake.

"You were right," she heard him whisper into her hair, "Best nap ever." She felt the slight rumble in his chest as he spoke, and the small amount of movement against the back of her head shifted her hair against her neck, tickling slightly and sending chills down her spine.

"And the best way to wake up," she added softly, feeling him chuckle behind her, pulling her even tighter.

"No arguments here," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against the back of her neck.

"Mmmmm," she hummed, "let's agree to never get up." This made him chuckle again, and the cycle of small actions repeated itself.

"And I would agree to that in a heartbeat," he said into her hair, "except that there will be a Weller at that door pretty soon, either beating on it or _opening it_ , because due to an oversight, it's unlocked." Now it was her turn to chuckle, letting herself lean back against him. "Besides," he added, "we'll need to eat eventually. And if my nose doesn't deceive me, I'd say they brought home pizza."

"Pizza _is_ tempting…" she conceded. "But…" She sighed against him, tightening her grip on his right hand.

He pushed himself up on his left elbow just enough to rest his left cheek against her right, so that his mouth was near her ear. "If you think this is the only time we're going to find ourselves _just_ like this, you're mistaken. Does that make you feel better?" he whispered, causing chills to run down her spine once again.

She felt a smile spread across her face bigger than any other she could remember, and she turned around until she was facing him, letting go of his hand so that she could maneuver herself, now looking into his eyes for the first time since she'd woken up. Her intention had been to answer him, but she found that as soon as her eyes were locked on his, she was speechless. Biting her lip, she looked back at him and suddenly felt the familiar prickling sensation behind her eyes. Hoping to stop any potential tears before they started, she simply nodded and then leaned forward, wiggling slightly against his chin until her head was nestled against his neck.

Chuckling as his left hand found the inked spot at the base of her neck once again simply by memory, his now free right arm wrapped around her once again, holding her close.

"Okay, I surrender, forget the food," he told her, though it was obvious from his tone that he was joking. He was rewarded by a chuckle from her that, because of their closeness, he felt rumble through both of them.

"I know you don't mean that," she whispered. "But it's such a nice thought."

Now it was his turn to chuckle, and for the moment, he ignored the fact that they needed to get up. _Just one more minute,_ he promised himself.

"One of these days, we'll be laying around like this and there'll be nothing and no one forcing us to get up…" he told her, "though… it might not happen until we get back to New York. And we do tend to be a little busy there…" He felt her tense up at the mention of going back to New York, and he leaned down to kiss to top of her head. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

Just then, they heard voices in the hallway outside the door. "Alright, you can get out of it for now, but we're going to come back to this subject later," he told her. "Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, nodding against him. He allowed himself another few seconds to hold onto her tightly, after which he had to force himself to loosen his arms from around her.

"Come on," he coaxed her, pushing himself to sit up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. There was a knock at the door just then, and Sawyer's voice rang through it from the hallway.

"Uncle Kurt! We have _pizza_!" Sawyer called excitedly. " _Three_ kinds!"

"We'll be right there, buddy. Save us some, okay?" Kurt called, turning over his shoulder to see Jane crawling from the other side of the bed to join him, swinging her feet over the edge and scooting close to him.

"Okay!" the voice in the hall called in reply, and then they heard feet banging down the stairs quickly.

They both laughed quietly, and though he wanted nothing more than to sit and pull her into his side, he forced himself to stand up, turning around and holding out his hand to her. She took it, of course, and as soon as she was standing up he had the fight the urge to pull her closer, simply keeping hold of her hand as they turned to walk towards the door. Once in the hall, she managed to extricate her hand from his in order to duck into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later to find him leaning against the doorframe.

She'd opened the door, not expecting to find him standing so close, and she stopped in surprise as a grin spread across her face. "Hey," she said, taking half a step so that she was decidedly in his personal space.

"Hey yourself," he said, not moving from where he stood.

"Are you trying to get in here?" she glanced over her shoulder into the bathroom, then back at him, her eyes dancing in amusement.

"Maybe," he replied, his eyes not moving off of her.

"Uncle Kurt! Jane!" they heard Sawyer calling them from downstairs. "Are you coming or what?"

"Just a minute, buddy, we're getting there," Kurt called over his shoulder, turning back to continue looking into Jane's eyes as if he'd never moved.

"I think that's our cue," she told him, tilting her head to the side.

"Well, in that case, I suppose I _should_ go in there for a second," he said, moving even closer to her. "I'll trade places with you," he told her, not moving.

"Oh yeah?" she asked in amusement. "How are we going to do that when you're blocking the doorway?"

Resting his hands lightly on her hips, he nudged her gently to the right and began turning them in a circle, almost as if they were dancing, until she found herself outside the bathroom looking in, and he was standing where she had been less than a minute ago. They hadn't once taken their eyes off of each other through the whole turn.

"I'd better hurry up," he said, letting his hands fall slowly from her waist, taking a step backwards and only looking away when the door had closed between them. She exhaled, turning around to face into the hall and stepping to the side of the doorway to lean her back against the wall. She could feel a goofy smile taking over her face. Trying to process the events of the last few hours, her brain felt overwhelmed and sluggish.

 _Could any of this be real, much less_ _ **all**_ _of it?_

She was so lost in thought when the door opened that she didn't even hear it. As she stared down at the floor in front of her, not even realizing that she was grinning, he stepped into that very spot in front of her. Her head snapped up in surprise, and as she straightened up, bringing herself closer to his height, he leaned down at the same time. It was hard to say who kissed who, therefore, because they had met in the middle. When he managed to pull himself back from her, pushing his hands against the wall on each side of her, her face was flushed.

"Well I see we both had the idea about brushing our teeth," she observed, looking at him innocently.

"It was a damn good idea," he told her, winking mischievously. She looked at him with raised eyebrows, laughing and shaking her head, just as they heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Their eyes met quickly in understanding – Sawyer was coming to look for them. There were two choices, of course – either to turn around and head for the stairs before he reached the top, or, a slightly naughtier option… Which was the one Kurt chose.

Turning to glance for just a second at the stairs, his eyes were on her again in a second, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he slowly leaned forward again, his lips making contact with hers just before his nephew reached the top of the stairs.

They didn't see his expression, but they could imagine it based on what they heard. "Hey, are you guys—" And then a second of silence before the yelling began. "Ugh! Are you _serious_? _Again_?" And then he must have turned around, because they could hear heavy feet stomping down the stairs as Sawyer called for Sarah. "Mom! They were upstairs _kissing, AGAIN_! In the _hall_!" His voice retreated quickly, and they heard Sarah's calm voice, trying to soothe him.

Kurt leaned back and looked at Jane, looking immensely proud of himself. Jane laughed, shook her head, and tried hard to make herself be serious. "That was a little bit mean," she told him, though she was still laughing.

"You complaining?" he asked her, his tone now serious but his eyes sparkling.

She smacked him playfully on the arm, and took a step in his direction, but surprised him by brushing past him toward the stairs. "Come on. We need to actually get downstairs while there's still pizza." Kurt chuckled, following close behind her as he suddenly smelled the pizza and his stomach rumbled insistently.

At the bottom of the stairs, she paused just long enough to look over her shoulder at him, which was all the time it took for him to be by her side and to grab her hand before they continued walking into the kitchen. As they came through the doorway, Kurt stepping behind Jane but not letting go of her hand, Sarah looked up at them, shaking her head.

"Hi, guys," she said slowly. "That took a while." There was a grin on her face and she glanced at Sawyer before looking back at them.

Sawyer, on the other hand, looked up at them from where he was sitting at the kitchen table with an expression that was somewhere between embarrassment and a glare, and as soon as he'd finished chewing, he said, allegedly to Sarah but looking directly at Kurt, "They were _kissing._ _ **Again**_." His tone alone let them know just how not amused he was.

Jane did her best to keep her eyes fixed on the pizza on the counter across the room. Kurt, on the other hand, somehow kept a straight face as he smiled at Sawyer as they walked by him, reaching out and messing up the boy's curls as they passed. "Sorry, buddy," he said, and Sawyer's expression relaxed again, though he still appeared to be sulking slightly.

" _No more kissing_ ," Sawyer mumbled sullenly.

Looking over her shoulder, Jane pretended to be taken aback. "Like… ever?" she asked dramatically.

"What? Oh, well… no…" Sawyer said, momentarily confused. _Oh course I didn't mean_ _ **forever**_ , he thought. By the time he noticed that she was grinning at him, and that she hadn't actually thought that he'd meant forever, he was done sulking.

"Very funny," he said, sticking his tongue out at both of them, and the relaxed atmosphere in the room returned.

Both Jane and Kurt helped themselves to pizza and came back to sit at the kitchen table, Jane across from Sarah and Kurt across from Sawyer.

"Can you believe Christmas was only yesterday?" Sarah asked, shaking her head.

"I can't wait for _next_ Christmas," Sawyer said gleefully, to which Sarah shook her head quickly.

"No no no," she said, looking slightly frightened, "I'm _so_ not ready for another one. Give me another twelve months to recover, kid." The thought of next Christmas was completely overwhelming to her at that moment.

"It _is_ hard to believe," Jane agreed. "I feel like we've been here a lot more than two days. I guess I'm not used to… uh… _relaxing_." She looked embarrassed, but it was the truth. She'd had weekends off before, of course, but the time alone with only her thoughts in her safe house had always been so stressful – nothing like this. She'd worked hard to fill the time. Purposely enjoying downtime was a foreign concept to her.

Sarah nodded. "Christmas tends to be an intense holiday," she added. "Maybe because of all the hype around it, or everything that goes into getting ready for it, or all the money that it requires," she rolled her eyes just thinking about how expensive Christmas had been again that year. "And we get off easy in our family. Some of my friends have hordes of family descending on them, or on the flip side, they have to go and stay with extended family that drives them crazy…" She trailed off when she realized that Jane, of all people, might not be the best person to say this to. After all, she had _no one_ , which according to Kurt, was part of the reason why she was there.

 _Well, part of the reason, anyway_ , Sarah thought as she watched the two of them. Even though their chairs weren't pulled together at that moment and as far as she could tell, they were keeping at least a few inches between them, there was still something about the way the two of them interacted with each other that made it obvious how they felt about each other. Kurt's eyes continuously swept back to Jane, even if only for a few seconds, and Jane's eyes likewise always swept back to Kurt. Yes, Sarah decided, Jane having no family was a convenient excuse for her brother to spend the holidays with her.

Jane hadn't said anything in response to Sarah's offhanded comments about Christmas and family. She knew that Sarah hadn't meant anything by them, and that she'd simply been stating a fact. It _was_ a holiday where most people were with their family. The fact that what little family she had left consisted of a terrorist brother who was locked up in the bowels of the FBI… well, that certainly wasn't Sarah's fault. It seemed doubtful that Sarah even _knew_ about that, and that was for the best. Besides, if she'd _had_ family, she wouldn't have ended up in Clearfield, with Kurt, that weekend. Really, not having family had worked in Jane's favor in this case.

Despite all of this, however, Jane was quiet after that.

Kurt heard his sister's well intentioned words and cringed slightly. He wasn't upset with her for what she said, of course, and he knew that Jane wasn't either. However, he also knew that family was a sensitive subject with Jane, and rightfully so. She'd started out with no family, as far as she knew, and when she'd finally found two people who were related to her, by blood or not, they were terrorists. She'd had to choose – the FBI and doing what was right, or her family, for whom the lives of innocent people were irrelevant if they stood in the way of their goals.

Needless to say, it wasn't an easy choice, but she'd chosen the FBI over her family. Even so, despite the fact that she disagreed with their actions so vehemently, they were still her family, and he knew how much her decision had cost her. After all, Sarah and Sawyer were what was left of _his_ family, and he couldn't imagine having to give them up in order to 'do the right thing.'

"Uncle Kurt!" Sawyer's voice brought Kurt swiftly back to reality. "Can we sit and play video games for a while? It's been so long!"

Kurt glanced at Sarah, who smiled and rolled her eyes, as if to say _Of course he brought them, and yes, go ahead,_ and then at Jane, who smiled at him encouragingly. Did she want more time with him herself? _Of course_. Could she begrudge him time with the nephew who he never got to see, now that he lived thousands of miles away? Of course not.

"I thought you wanted to play Monopoly, buddy?" Kurt reminded him. Sawyer looked surprised for a minute, realizing that they'd never had a chance to play earlier, and that he and Sarah had gone out instead.

"Oh, yeah… I mean, I did… but I'd rather play video games right now," Sawyer sputtered. Monopoly fever had obviously abated for the time being.

"Sure buddy, we can play for a while. What games do you have?" Kurt replied, at which time Sawyer jumped up from the table and made a beeline for the TV in the family room.

"I've got a _lot_ of them!" he exclaimed. "I'll show you. Come on!"

"He does," Sarah affirmed. "Somehow we've acquired _way_ too many since we moved."

Kurt grinned and stood up slowly from the table. As he pushed his chair in with his right hand, he rested his left hand on Jane's shoulder, letting it linger longer a few seconds after his chair stopped moving, and then let it brush across to her other shoulder as he walked behind her. She smiled up at him as he stopped on the other side of her to pick up the other three plates on the table, and then took all of them to the counter by the sink. Even after he'd walked away, she felt a slight buzz, feeling a slight warmth along the trail that he'd made across her shoulders. Even through a shirt and a sweatshirt, the indirect contact was a relief after they'd managed to keep several whole inches between them for long enough to eat their pizza.

If she had to be honest, it had felt like eternity, even though she knew that it hadn't even been ten minutes, and she could feel herself smiling again without having realized that she was doing it.

 _My, how things have changed in a few short days,_ she thought.

The boys settled themselves on the floor by the TV and Sawyer, delighted to have a receptive audience, was already halfway through listing and describing all of his games to his uncle. Sarah smiled and shook her head at them, glad to see the boys getting some time together.

Jane stood up and looked around, glancing over at the boys and realizing that she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself now.

"Should we have some coffee? They may be busy for a while," Sarah suggested.

Jane smiled gratefully at the offer. "Sure," she replied. "Decaf?"

"At this hour, that's probably a good idea," Sarah agreed, standing up to go and find the necessary supplies. While she got the coffee started, Jane put the plates into the dishwasher and consolidated the leftover pizza down to one box, then put it into the refrigerator.

"How long are you and Sawyer staying?" Jane asked. "There's still a lot of food in here."

Sarah grinned and shrugged. "I know," she said. "We're supposed to leave on Wednesday morning, if the weather cooperates… So whatever's left, I'll give to the next door neighbor." Jane noticed that Sarah glanced in the direction of Taylor's house – or, the house that _had been_ Taylor's house, technically, since no Shaw had lived there for years – but that she didn't specifically _say_ which neighbor.

"Are you doing anything else to the house before you sell it?" Jane asked. She couldn't even imagine what it must be like for Sarah and Kurt, to be in a house full of all of your childhood memories, knowing that they would never be there again… that it would soon belong to someone else, and that, because of the age of the house, that someone else would probably update it, or even just gut it and start over. Either way, chances were that they would change it completely.

Of course, she knew that for Kurt, the hard thing had been being _in_ the house, not getting rid of it. It seemed to Jane that Sarah would probably have a much different experience.

"No, we're not doing anything to it," Sarah sighed wistfully, her tone proving Jane's theory correct before she'd uttered more than a single word. "Whoever buys it will make it their own, and there's nothing to say they'd like the way we would fix it up, anyway. Might as well not spend the money to change it, and sell it at a lower price. The house is long since paid for, anyway, so we don't have to worry about getting a certain price… It's just… _strange_ … to think that we'll never be here again. All of the memories of my childhood are here, good and bad…"

Jane watched as Sarah suddenly seemed to realize what she was saying and who she was talking to. The other woman appeared to regret her words, blushing slightly and looking at Jane guiltily. Before she could say anything, however, Jane shook her head and held up her hand. "It's fine, Sarah. Really," she assured her.

Sarah smiled sadly and shook her head, then glanced over at Kurt as a pained expression came over her face. "He'll be glad to get rid of it though," she added. "I don't even know how I talked him into coming here. He certainly wasn't happy about it, and I know he only agreed because it was important to me…" Turning back to Jane, she added, "But I'm glad he did. That you _both_ did."

The loud sound of the coffee machine as it finished brewing gave Sarah something to focus on besides how awkward she suddenly felt, and she turned her attention to it thankfully. She poured two mugs of coffee and they each added the amount of cream and sugar they liked, then stood by the counter and sipped.

"Why don't we go in the dining room, where it's quieter?" Sarah suggested. Jane glanced at the boys, who were now in their own little world, staring hard at the screen and pounding on the controllers, leaning one way and then the other… Jane had absolutely no idea what was going on, but there were lots of random sounds coming from the TV, that much was for sure. Her eyes rested on Kurt for a second and she had a feeling she had a silly grin on her face, though there was nothing she could do about it.

"Sure," Jane agreed, following Sarah out of the kitchen. They settled in the dining room, which didn't look like anyone had eaten there for a very long time. She thought fleetingly of when she and Kurt had come in there to get some privacy to talk, after Kurt had had one of his more intense flashbacks of Taylor in the kitchen, but shook her head slightly as she sat down to clear it from her mind. Hopefully, he was past that. It certainly seemed like something had changed for him, anyway.

"Sarah, thank you so much for having me this weekend," Jane said as soon as they were settled. "I… It meant a lot to me to have somewhere to go. I certainly wasn't looking forward to spending Christmas in my safe house, staring at the walls."

Sarah smiled sadly at her and nodded. "I'm glad you came," she said. "You're so good for him."

Jane looked slightly embarrassed, and she could feel her cheeks heat up at the compliment. Still, there was something that she felt like she should address with her. "I know… what you probably thought of me, when everyone found out… About Taylor," Jane said slowly.

Sarah knew that it would be a lie if Sarah had tried to argue that she hadn't been angry with Jane on her brother's behalf. After all, she'd watched him suffer so much, for almost his whole life, and then to see him be betrayed like that… and by someone that he so obviously loved…

Forcing herself to smile, Sarah nodded slowly. "I like to think that I handled it better than my brother, though I guess that's not saying much. And he was obviously a little sketchy about the details…"

"I really didn't know. That I wasn't her. He told me that he _thought_ I was first, and then the DNA results backed it up… I had no memories, so I had no reason to think I wasn't her and every reason to think that I was. Her. Taylor." Jane could hear the pleading in her own voice, the desperation, and she only hoped that Sarah would believe her.

Of course, Sarah had been nothing but kind to her that weekend, so it seemed that she had already moved past it all, but Jane didn't want there to be any doubt in her mind. After all, she was in love with Kurt, and she wanted Sarah to know that she never intended to hurt him – not in the past, and certainly not in the future.

Sarah smiled at her, and Jane could see in her eyes that she believed her.

"It was terrible, the way he found out," Jane said, looking into her coffee. "That day was… it was terrible for both of us. That was the same day I found out…" She paused, thinking about her words carefully. "I lost someone that day too," she said simply. "It would have been easy to stop there, but she continued. "I wish… I wish there was a way it could've been different. But I guess when your dad…" Jane stopped herself. There was no reason to rub it in. "I guess that was the only way to be sure."

"I know," Sarah agreed in a soft voice. At that moment, she knew for absolute certain that Jane was telling the truth. "And it took me a while to accept that you really hadn't known. I _was_ angry for a while… probably not as angry as Kurt, but it was just hard to see him going through all that again… He didn't want to tell me anything about you until recently." She paused, as if she was trying to remember. "I guess it was about a week ago, maybe? It sure feels like a lot longer than that."

"He talked to you about me a week ago?" Jane asked curiously. It had only been four days since he'd been speaking to _her_.

"Something like that," Sarah replied thoughtfully. "I guess it could have been two weeks. But in any case, not very long ago."

"Hmmm," was all Jane could say. She hoped that Sarah would say more about what Kurt had said about her without her having to ask.

"Yeah, I asked him how things were with you," Sarah continued, to Jane's relief. "He'd been so much more closed off since that night when he'd found her… and I understood why, and I tried to give him his space, but I was worried. That day I talked to him and he seemed… I don't know. No, I guess I'd noticed it a few other times and I'd been wondering if something had changed, because he seemed just a little… I don't know. Less guarded, I guess. I'd hoped that he'd tell me on his own, and I didn't want to ask in case I was wrong and nothing had changed – I just had a feeling when I talked to him, but no real proof… So that day I finally asked him how things were with you, and he… He said that he'd been working with you."

Sarah paused to take a drink of her coffee, and Jane watched her intently.

"I guess I asked him how that could be, if… if, after all, you'd deceived them…" Sarah looked embarrassed, but she kept talking, eager to get through that part of the story. "He said that they'd found out that you hadn't known after all, that there had been more going on than they'd originally thought… and that he couldn't tell me the details – of course. But as far as I was concerned, the important part, as far as _I_ could see, was that he seemed to have forgiven you. That was enough for me."

Jane smiled weakly at Sarah, nodding. As far as Sarah knew, or would know, what had happened was just that simple. Jane could only _wish_ that it had been that easy, but she wasn't able to say anything else. Nor would she have wanted to. It was between her, and Kurt – and the FBI, of course.

 _Let it go,_ the voice told her. _It worked out okay._

"It's been a rough year for both of us," Jane sighed, looking into her coffee again. That much of the truth she _could_ tell Sarah.

"But you're _here_ ," Sarah reminded her. "Looks like it turned out okay." Sarah's words were so similar to the ones in her head, Jane couldn't help but look up in surprise.

"That's what I try to tell myself," Jane admitted. "That it turned out okay, so it doesn't matter how hard it was to get here."

"I'm not sure I'd say it doesn't matter," Sarah said slowly. She'd just realized how seriously Jane was taking their conversation from the serious look on her face. "But there's always the idea that you appreciate something a lot more if you have to work for it, right?" she asked. Jane nodded, seeing where she was going but saying nothing. "Well, maybe that's what makes things so good for you guys now, despite everything. Because it was so hard for you to get here."

 _You have no idea, Sarah,_ Jane thought.

The more she thought about it, the more she thought that maybe Sarah had a point. After all, they _had_ both been through Hell – and not just that year. For Kurt, it had been since he was ten, after all. And Jane's whole life, whether she remembered it or not, well, it all looked rather hellish from her perspective as Jane, no matter what Remi might have thought. That didn't matter anyway, after all, because Remi was long gone.

Yes, if she looked at it that way, they'd earned the right to happiness. That didn't mean it would necessarily be easy from then on, but they sure could appreciate everything they had… and it went a little ways towards reassuring Jane when she felt like she didn't deserve forgiveness. Maybe she did, after all…

"Maybe you're right," Jane said quietly, nodding her head. They finished their coffee in silence, each of them lost in their thoughts.

"Shall we check on the boys?" Sarah asked when her cup was empty. She was curious to see Jane's reaction. It was fun, she had to admit, to see how the two of them were with each other. Her brother had never acted around anyone else the way he acted around Jane. Namely… _happy._

"Sure," Jane said with a smile. The two of them stood up and pushed in their chairs, walking back toward the strange beeping sounds of whatever video game they were playing. They boys didn't even seem to hear them approach, and the two women stood near the TV in order to be in the boys' line of sight, watching them staring hard at the screen and frantically pushing buttons.

"Hey guys," Sarah said casually. "Ready to play Monopoly?"

Kurt glanced up at his sister and Jane standing there watching them in amusement, and had to work hard to return his attention to the game. As much as he'd rather look at Jane just then, if he let himself be distracted, Sawyer would beat him, and then he'd be insufferable. Kurt had told him emphatically that _he_ was going to win, after all. So he forced himself to return his eyes to the game, telling himself that he would only play a little longer.

"What? Oh, I…" Sawyer stopped mid-sentence, his face contorting in concentration as he held the controller up at a strange angle and pressed the buttons in a sequence that was apparently very important to whatever he was trying to accomplish. Having finished whatever he was trying to do, he glanced back at his mom. "Um… no, mom, we can't stop at _this_ part. We're almost at the big boss. We have to beat him."

"Right, of course," Sarah said as if she knew exactly what he was talking about and couldn't agree more. Shaking her head, an amused smile on her face, she walked over and started cleaning up the Monopoly game. They weren't going to get to it after all, but none of them was upset.

Jane turned to look at the screen, trying to figure out what was so interesting that the boys didn't seem to be able to look away. It was… confusing, and hypnotizing. She didn't understand what was going on, but she could see how it could hold their attention, she supposed.

It didn't hold hers, however, and she turned away and walked around the boys to where Sarah was putting away the Monopoly game. "Do you need any help?" Jane asked.

"Nope, this is the last of it," Sarah said, grabbing the game pieces from the board and dumping them in the box, then folding up the board and putting it in on top, followed by the lid. "This one can go back in the closet, I guess." She seemed to think for a second, and then added, "Or, really I guess I should ask Kurt if he wants this to take home, or any of the other games, for that matter. I don't think he has any… I'm pretty sure when we played at his place, they were always the ones that Sawyer and I had brought when we came to live with him, and we took them with us."

There was something sad about that thought, Jane couldn't help but think. As if they'd brought some much needed life and fun into Kurt's somber, serious life, and then had taken it away again when they'd moved to Portland. That, on top of everything else that Kurt had been dealing with… everything that _she_ had been responsible for him having to have to deal with.

Guilt, like a familiar blanket, crept over her for a second before she even realized it. But Kurt's voice was there in her head only an instant later. _It's not your fault, Jane_ , he told her in no uncertain terms. _Besides, it's done_.

Instead of putting it back in the closet, Sarah left the game box at one end of the kitchen counter. Taking one last look back toward the boys, she shook her head. A yawn escaped her, and she stretched her hands up in the air. "I'm going to get ready for bed," she said. "I need to catch up on sleep now while I can, because when we go back home… I go right back to work and my crazy everyday life."

Jane nodded. She could certainly relate to that. Whenever they got back to New York, she and Kurt would be thrown right back into work and it would probably be just as if they'd never left.

 _Except it won't be,_ Jane reminded herself. _It's going to be different._ At least, she _wanted_ to believe that it was going to be different.

Sarah walked over closer to where the boys had the exact same looks of intense concentration on their faces as they had when she and Jane had first entered the room.

"Good night, boys," she called, a little extra loudly to compensate for the fact that they were actively tuning out most of their surroundings in favor of the game in front of them.

"Night," Kurt mumbled without looking up.

Sawyer didn't reply, and Kurt elbowed him. "Hey! What was that for?" he demanded.

"Say good night to your mom," Kurt told him.

Turning toward her in surprise, Sawyer looked up sheepishly for a split second, before his eyes flicked back to the game. "Sorry. Night, mom," he said.

"Don't let him stay up all night, Uncle Kurt," Sarah told her brother.

"Course not," Kurt replied, again without looking up, as if the idea was ridiculous. Sarah rolled her eyes and turned away from them, walking back across the kitchen toward Jane.

"This wouldn't be the first time they played video games til they practically passed out," she said to Jane, shaking her head but smiling. She wasn't even pretending to be annoyed. "If it was anyone else staying with us, I'd force him to go to bed… but he idolizes Kurt. He always has. In a way…" Sarah stopped for a second and looked over at them as if something had just occurred to her. Nodding her head at her own thought, she said, "In a way, how Sawyer worships him reminds me of the way Taylor used to be with him, too. You've never seen a little kid follow a bigger kid around more closely than she did to Kurt. It really was the cutest thing," Sarah said, smiling sadly. "I was jealous of what they had," Sarah admitted quietly.

Jane followed Sarah's gaze to the boys, and for a minute they were both quiet. Sarah, remembering, and Jane, imagining.

"Good night, Jane," Sarah said, turning towards her with a smile.

"Good night, Sarah," Jane replied. "I'm probably going to head up there myself soon, too. Doesn't seem like these boys need our help with anything."

"Not so much," Sarah said. "See you in the morning." With that, she disappeared into the hall. Jane stood and watched the boys, focusing on Kurt in particular, for a few more minutes. He was very much involved in what he was doing, so after putting the coffee mugs in the dishwasher and wiping crumbs off the counters and the table, Jane headed upstairs as well.

She knew that Kurt would catch up with her eventually, once he'd finished playing with Sawyer. At the top of the stairs she realized that she was smiling unconsciously once again. She'd certainly been doing more and more of that in the past few days. There was something that she liked very much about knowing that even though Kurt wasn't by her side at that moment, he would be soon. It was an unfamiliar certainty, but a very soothing one.

And yes, it was only a certainty because they were staying in the same house. Had they been back in New York, it was possible that _none_ of what had happened in the past few days would have ever happened. She tried to digest that as she slipped into the bedroom to change into her pajamas, but the feeling was disconcerting.

 _If none of it had ever happened – after the party, of course, which had happened in New York… If I'd just gone home and spent this weekend alone…_

Of course, like any other 'what if,' it was impossible to know what would or wouldn't have happened, but she reminded herself that it didn't matter, because it _had_ happened. She was there, and Kurt was there. Things between them had changed, and they weren't going to go back to the way they had been. At least, that was what she told herself, determined to believe it. That part still remained to be seen.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she climbed into bed with one of the books from Kurt's bookshelf. The cover said simply, 1984, and the short synopsis on the back cover was enough to pique Jane's interest. It appeared to be a well-worn copy, and she tried to imagine a teenaged Kurt reading it, laying exactly where she was then. The feeling was a little strange, and yet comforting. Really, she found most things about Kurt comforting.

She knew that she was drifting off to sleep as she read, but she didn't mind. After all, if she fell asleep, that just meant that it would seem like Kurt was there beside her that much sooner. The thought made her smile yet again, and with that, her eyes drifted closed and the book dropped down onto the blankets, falling beside her.


	34. Peace

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

Kurt sent Sawyer off to bed and turned out the lights downstairs, double checking that the doors were locked out of habit, even though he was sure that Sarah, the hyper-vigilant one of the two of them, would have already checked as well. If being back in this house reminded him of anything, it was that you couldn't be too careful. After all, if his own father could get away with…

 _Don't go there_ , he told himself as he climbed the stairs, trying to tread lightly so that he didn't wake Sarah or Jane. At least, he assumed that Jane had gone to sleep…

He and Sawyer had played video games until much later than they should have, and he knew it. He didn't regret it, however – there were just so few chances for the two of them to do anything like that now. When they'd lived in the same apartment, Kurt's job had made it hard enough to find time to spend time with the kid, but now… now that Sarah and Sawyer had moved across the country, it was pretty much impossible. He hoped that Sarah wouldn't be too upset with him for letting Sawyer stay up so late, but deep down he was fairly certain that she wouldn't mind. He knew that she was as happy to see the two of them spend time together as the two of them were to do it.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, he was surprised when he saw light coming from under the door of his old bedroom. Surely, Jane wasn't still awake… She hadn't said goodnight when Sarah had, but then again, she'd known that she'd be seeing him before morning.

He felt a twinge of guilt at leaving her to her own devices for the evening – but they had lots of time ahead of them, whereas his time with Sawyer was limited. Besides, he'd been with her non-stop all weekend.

 _And yet… you missed her tonight, didn't you?_ the voice in his head asked in amusement.

 _Yes I did_ , he admitted to himself. _There's nothing wrong with that._

When he slowly opened the door to the bedroom, he couldn't help but smile at her fondly. She had fallen asleep reading the book that now lay beside her, her cheek pressed into the pillow and her hair hanging down over her eyes. It seemed that somehow, even those few hours apart had given him a renewed appreciation for her. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed beside her then and there, but he forced himself to find his pajamas and slip back out of the room to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change.

After what felt like it took an unreasonably long time, most likely due to his impatience, he was closing the door behind him a second time, remembering to lock it this time. Once again he found himself standing in the middle of the room, drinking in the sight of her. Reminding his tired feet to move, he left his dirty clothes on top of his bag and turned off the light, waiting for a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark before walking carefully to the edge of the bed. He moved the book from beside her, setting it on the desk nearby, and pulled back the covers slowly, trying not to disturb her. She'd fallen asleep on her side, facing him, and he laid down and scooted himself toward her, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

As soon as he did, he saw a smile stretch across her face in the dark, and her eyes fluttered halfway open. "Hey," she said simply, smiling at him. "I missed you."

He couldn't tell if she was actually awake or not, and he was fairly sure she wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning. As much as he didn't want to risk waking her up any further, he couldn't help but reply.

"I missed you, too," he whispered, snaking his left arm under her neck and around her back to pull her closer. "Now go back to sleep."

"Okay," she replied, her eyes already closing. "I know I'll sleep better now that you're here." With that, she seemed to pass out again, her head on his shoulder as a pillow, her left arm across his chest. Kurt, on the other hand, tired though he was, lay and listened to her slow breathing for a little while, his left hand on her back. Suddenly he was in awe of everything that had happened between them all over again.

Overwhelmed by the events of the few days they'd been in Clearfield, he pressed his cheek down against her forehead, his eyes closing against an onslaught of emotions rather than due to tiredness. Of course, he _was_ tired, but his mind was very much awake. Even if Jane _had_ been awake, he got the feeling that he wouldn't have been able to express to her everything that he was feeling at that moment, and this only made him pull her tighter to him.

It wasn't long – only a few minutes – before his mind began to relax enough for tiredness to take over. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of her breathing, feeling more relaxed than he could remember feeling for a very, very long time.

 _So this is what it's like,_ he thought just before he surrendered to sleep. _Happiness._ He couldn't help but smile.

Jane awoke with dim sunlight filtering into the room around the curtains. Once again, as she always did, she took stock of her surroundings before even opening her eyes, and once again she couldn't help but smile when she realized that Kurt's arm was wrapped around her back. Her own arm was draped over him, and she was using him as a pillow. Waking up with him really was addictive. It was going to be hard to go back home, go back to waking up alone in her safe house…

She felt a pang in her chest, an emptiness that threatened to swallow her then and there, at that thought, and she did her best to push it away. Depending on the weather, they could be leaving that very day. In a few hours, even. They'd been planning to go back the previous day, so really, every hour that they spent there now was a bonus, on top of the gift of this trip. She knew she was being greedy by wishing that they could stay even longer, but she simply couldn't help it.

Here, she knew what to expect, knew where they stood with him – well, sort of. Back at home, in New York, where they _weren't_ stuck in the same house by weather and a holiday weekend, but instead each had their own places, where work would undoubtedly pull them in separate directions, especially since Kurt was technically her _boss_ … No, back in New York, she didn't know what would happen, or how things would be between them.

Of course, she wanted to believe that it could be the way it was at that moment. But despite how very badly she wanted to believe that what had happened between them wasn't going to disappear just because of a change in scenery, the idea that it could be like this… that they could simply be _happy_ together, it just seemed too easy. After all, nothing had come easy for her so far…

 _Wait… You're saying this has been_ _ **easy**_ _?_ the voice in her head asked, almost laughing at her. _You're kidding, right? If there's one word I would use to describe things between you and Kurt, 'easy' would not be it… not in a million years._

 _Okay, fine_ , she thought. _It hasn't been easy. But it's… it's_ _ **good**_ _. Right now. I'm happy._

 _So, what's the problem? You think you're not allowed to be happy?_ the voice asked.

She knew that she was supposed to say yes, of course she was allowed to be happy, but she just couldn't – not even to herself. When it came down to it, after everything she knew that she – er, _Remi_ – had done, only a fraction of which she remembered, it felt impossible that she deserved this much happiness. If she really thought about it, it seemed impossible that she deserved happiness, _period_.

Kurt would, of course, argue vehemently against this kind of logic, and she knew that she should, too… Instead, she simply tried to push the thoughts from her mind completely. It would be healthier to deal with them, of course… but at that moment, it just felt like too much.

Finally opening her eyes, she smiled, the thoughts of her past immediately forgotten as she looked up at a sleeping Kurt. Shifting herself carefully, trying not to move too much, she pushed herself slowly up on her right elbow so that he could look at him at a better angle. She didn't know how she'd wound up lucky enough to be where she was just then, and at that moment she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was that she was there, that _they_ were there. Of all the things and places and people in the world that she had forgotten, she couldn't help but feel like she wasn't missing anything. Her heart felt full to overflowing, after all – what else could she possibly need? She might not deserve it, but she _had_ it. _Him._

She lay there watching him, letting her left hand move to the back of his neck. His head was turned towards her, and her fingers slipped into the space between his skin and the pillow beneath him, moving only the tiniest bit without even realizing it. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, judging from the serene expression on his face, and Jane thought back to the previous day, to the difference she'd seen in him after he'd said he'd seen Taylor the last time. It was like the suffocating hold that that house had had on him since their arrival had suddenly released him.

 _It must be nice_ , she thought. She wasn't bitter about it, she didn't think, and it wasn't that she wasn't immensely happy for him. She _was_ happy for him _,_ absolutely she was. Seeing him so much lighter made her feel lighter... at least temporarily.

 _But then why, if you do think you are allowed to be happy, as you see that serene expression on his face and imagine him sleeping so peacefully, does it give you that feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can't explain?_ the voice asked her bluntly.

With a sigh, she had to admit that the voice was right. As much as she was genuinely happy for him, she simply couldn't help but contrast his happiness to her own doubts, the ones that only came out at times like this, when she allowed her thoughts to wander. She hated this about herself. She should just be happy for him and she knew it. It wasn't _his_ fault that her past was so dark and full of demons. No, it was _her own_ fault, when it came down to it. After all, she had done this to herself.

 _It was Remi,_ the voice reminded her. _It wasn't you_. But she wasn't really listening.

 _Why do I feel like I'm going to be saying that for my whole life, and it's never going to make it better?_ she wondered sadly. She was already sick of hearing it from herself, as if those empty words were supposed to somehow make up for the horrible things that she'd done.

 _It's the_ _ **truth**_ _,_ the voice piped up insistently. _It's not an_ _ **excuse**_ _._

As much as she _wanted_ to believe it, it just seemed too easy.

 _Too easy?_ the voice repeated once again. _Too easy like you and Kurt, which has been the opposite of easy? Do you even hear yourself?_

She sighed, wishing Kurt would wake up. This was a big reason why she so dreaded going back to her safe house, she realized. Even this short amount of time alone – though not even physically alone – with her thoughts was already setting her back. Already, she felt herself tensing, the thoughts in her head whirling faster and faster.

Lowering her forehead against Kurt's chest and trying to focus only on the feeling of the rise and fall of this breathing beneath the soft cotton of his t-shirt, she felt herself instead getting more agitated instead of less.

 _Stop it,_ she ordered herself, but found her mind unwilling to cooperate. Tuning out everything around her except Kurt, she tried to focus on her own breathing – in and out, in and out… That helped a little, but she still felt the familiar sense that she was teetering on the verge of panic. She hadn't felt this way since the last night she'd spent at her safe house – Thursday night. It seemed like a million years ago now. Back in her safe house, these feelings were her nightly companions. She'd gladly forgotten about them since coming along on this trip, but it seemed that she hadn't left them behind in New York, after all.

Kurt had slept very well, even if it hadn't been for as many hours as he might have liked. With his job, he was used to going without sleep when necessary, so the sleep he _had_ gotten had been plenty for the time being. Besides, with Jane curled up on his shoulder and his arm around her, he'd made up for quantity with quality. Once again he was delighted, as he had been every time he'd awoken with her beside him, to realize that it had not all been a dream.

No, thankfully it was all real, and Jane was still there with him. His eyes weren't even open yet, and already he felt himself smiling once again. It was something he'd been doing a lot more of over the past few days, and he liked the feeling.

As soon as he was halfway conscious, however, he could feel that something wasn't right. He felt Jane's forehead against his chest, her fingers behind his neck – not that he had any complaints about either of these, of course. But she was tense, he could feel immediately, and shaking slightly. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking at the top of her head. His left hand, which had been on her back, moved to her shoulder as his right hand came up to her head, smoothing back her hair.

"Hey," he said in a sleepy voice, but just as calmly as if he'd been continuing a conversation they'd had a few minutes before. "Are you ready to talk about it now?" Of course, it could have been something else that was bothering her, but somehow he knew that it wasn't. After all, he just seemed to be able to understand her. She'd probably woken up and, with nothing else to focus on, had let her mind wander to all the places where she normally fought so hard to keep it from going.

Her head was still against his chest when she heard his voice. The relief she felt that he was awake was so strong that it was almost tangible, and she was so relieved that she inhaled sharply.

 _How does he just_ _ **know**_ _?_ she wondered.

 _Because he's Kurt,_ she reminded herself, and smiled despite the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head so that she could look into his eyes, finding them full of concern.

"Good morning," he said quietly, realizing that they'd skipped that step.

"Good morning," she managed to whisper. "I…" Sighing heavily, she looked down at his t-shirt in front of her.

He turned onto his left side to face her, which made her slide off his shoulder, back down onto the mattress.

"Scoot up this way," he told her, gently but insistently, and she shifted herself until their faces were even with each other.

Kurt leaned against his left hand, his elbow anchored against the pillow, while Jane folded her right arm under her head and avoided meeting his eyes. Her left hand was balled into a fist, not quite clenched, but also not sitting loosely where she held it close in front of her. His right hand went to her cheek, his thumb moving slowly back and forth against it, feeling her lean against his hand and then, for some reason, attempt to pull herself back.

He slowly let his hand drop from her cheek, and she felt the loss of the contact acutely. Without her consent, the familiar walls around her were already rebuilding themselves in seconds, and she felt powerless to do anything about it. On the contrary, she suddenly felt like she and Kurt were being wrenched farther and farther apart, despite the fact that they were lying just as close together as they had been all along.

"Hey," he said softly, putting his right hand over her left, which was now clenched tightly into a fist. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her breathing accelerated. Leaning forward until their foreheads touched, Kurt felt helpless to stop whatever it was that was happening inside her head. "Jane," he whispered, "Talk to me."

The problem was that Jane was good at protecting herself by shutting down lines of communication. She _wasn't_ so good at the whole opening up thing. Despite how much she wanted to, at that moment it felt impossible.

"Okay, then I'm just going to have to start guessing," he told her calmly. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No," he heard her whisper.

"Did you… remember something?" he asked. After all, though it wasn't happening as much anymore, it wasn't impossible – and lots of the memories that she'd had in the past had upset her. Most of them, really. This time she simply shook her head against him.

"Is it something to do with Sarah?" Again, she shook her head. Of course, he'd been fairly sure he'd known what the problem was from the beginning, but he was just ruling out all of the other possibilities that he could think of.

"Are you upset that I stayed up late with Sawyer last night?" he asked.

That one got her attention, and she looked up at him immediately, leaning back so that he could make eye contact. "Of course not," she insisted. "If anything, I feel like I've stolen time with you away from him this weekend. I'm glad you guys got a chance to play last night."

Glad to have finally gotten her to come out of her shell enough to talk to him, he nodded seriously, looked into her eyes and asked, "Is it about going back to New York?" When she looked away without replying, his suspicion was confirmed.

He was still holding onto her hand, which she held stiffly in front of her. Though her fist had only loosened slightly, her arm itself was less tense and he was able to lift her hand from where she held it so defensively. Keeping his hand wrapped around hers, he slowly pulled their hands closer to him, placing her fist over his heart.

Jane inhaled a slow, shaky breath. The intended meaning of his gesture was crystal clear, and she wanted to believe it. _More than anything_ , she wanted to believe it.

"Jane," he whispered, leaning forward until both their foreheads and their noses were touching, "I know that I'm not good at this. And I know that you have no reason to trust me…"

Her head began shaking against his as soon as those words came out of his mouth, brushing their noses together. The sensation made her smile, despite all of the conflicting emotions that were swirling inside her.

"Don't say that," she protested softly. "I do trust you."

"Ssshhh," he told her soothingly. "I know that you _want_ to, and that means a lot. It's more I deserve maybe…" She looked at him sternly, and his expression turned sheepish. "Sorry, I know… the deal…" They smiled at each other for a few seconds, understanding restored. "I also know that you being able to trust me is not quite as simple as just _wanting_ to. I haven't quite earned it, maybe… Not _yet_. But I'm going to. That much I can promise you."

As she blinked repeatedly, tears were suddenly falling from her eyes. He was right, after all. She _wanted_ to trust him, to believe that it was all going to be okay, but the reality was far more complicated. And despite their promise to each other in the car that they were 'even,' that didn't mean that all was forgotten. That was impossible. Forgiven, yes. But forgotten, no. Of course not. And she couldn't change the fact that _really_ trusting anyone, even Kurt, would take time.

Reluctantly, he unwrapped his right hand from around her left, leaving it there over his heart. She'd uncurled her fingers, and her hand now lay flat against his shirt. Below her hand, she could feel the thump-thump of his heartbeat. He moved his back to her cheek, swiping at the tears there with his thumb, and looking at her sadly.

She had to force her head to remain upright, to stop herself from leaning into his hand on her cheek.

 _Why?_ the voice in her head asked. _What are you trying to prove by holding back all of a sudden?_

She didn't even know, only knew that everything inside her was just too raw, and she was fighting her emotions on too many fronts at once. He was right, of course… she wanted to trust him, but she wasn't quite ready, and she hated herself for it. She _wanted_ to be ready, after all.

"I know that you have no memory of things going right," he told her quietly. "Come to think of it, I guess I don't really, either. But all I do know is…" He paused for a second to organize his thoughts. "We have a second chance – to do things right. And I don't intend to waste it." She nodded quickly, the nod that said that she agreed in theory, but that no matter how much she _wanted_ to, she didn't quite believe it. This didn't escape his attention, of course.

"Jane," he said, and waited until her eyes, which had been looking anywhere but at him, focused back on him before he said any more. It took her a few seconds before she did, only looking up when she realized that he really wasn't going to go on until he had her full attention. "Going back to New York isn't going to change anything. Okay?" Her head moved up and down so slightly that had he not been touching her face, he face not even have registered the movement. "Okay, I admit, we won't be able to just sit around relaxing all day. It will change what we have to _do_ …" he conceded. "After all, someone has to save the world, and apparently that's us," he added with a lopsided grin. "We're pretty good at it."

Smiling weakly, she nodded. "We make a good team," she said quietly.

Glad to see even a little bit of a smile on her face, he continued. "So, yes, we'll be a little busier. But _this_ …" He paused, looking into her eyes to show exactly what he was talking about. " _This_ is not going to change. I love you. I realized that I have for a long time. And even after everything that's happened, that hasn't gone away. If anything, everything we've been through has only made me love you more."

She looked at him uncertainly, her eyes asking a question that she was afraid to vocalize. But she knew that she needed to, because it was the only way to get the answer. "Even after…?" She wanted to say more, but she found that the rest of the words refused to come out. The expression on her face revealed to him just how much she dreaded hearing the answer to her own question.

Reaching his head up so that he could kiss her forehead, he returned his face to where it had been, pressed against hers once more. "You mean after you, the most honest and straightforward person I know, forced yourself to lie to me because you honestly thought it was the only way to save my life?" he asked, leaving her stunned for several seconds. She struggled to process what he had just said, having been bracing herself for something very different.

"What? _No_ … That's not what… I should have—" she struggled with words in an attempt to correct him, but he was having none of it.

"You don't see it that way, I know, and that's _my_ fault… but that _is_ what happened. I didn't see it that way at first, either… I'm not proud of my behavior when I found out… But it's the truth, Jane. I see that now. And how could I _not_ love you for that? On top of all the other things that I already loved you for?" he asked, leaning back, this time to kiss her on the nose, and then once again moving back to where he had been, pressing his nose and forehead against hers. He didn't know if the sustained contact with her would help her see how serious he was about what he was saying, but it seemed like it couldn't _hurt_. After all, they'd always reassured each other by touch in the past.

Jane looked down so sharply, her eyes were almost closed. Despite the fact that their foreheads and noses were already pressed together, Kurt couldn't help but feel that they still weren't close enough. His right hand slipped from her cheek, sliding around the back of her neck to the spot where he knew the oil derrick tattoo was, moving gently back and forth across her skin there. His nose shifted ever so slightly so that it slipped to the side of hers, so that the sides of their noses were still touching and their lips were now practically – though not quite – touching as well.

To her surprise, she felt herself gradually relaxing. She was almost breathing normally now, and as she relaxed, she slowly allowed herself to lean against him where she had been holding herself up stiffly just a minute before.

"I don't des—" she started, realizing too late exactly what was going to happen only a fraction of a second before it actually did.

"Yes, you _do_ ," he said, cutting her off. "We agreed on this already, remember?" They'd both spoken without moving away from each other, their lips still only a fraction of an inch apart. "You deserve even better. But I hope you'll settle for me."

She scoffed at him, her head shaking slightly. _He can't actually think that there could be someone better…_ she thought. "That's not settling," she whispered, feeling a hint of their lips brush against each other for a fraction of a second, reminding her of just how close they were. "Settling implies that there's someone out there who's better for me. And I don't care if I _do_ only know like… not even ten people in the whole world," she stopped to crack a smile at her own self-deprecating attempt at humor. "I already know that there _isn't_ anyone better than you."

Warmed inside by her words, Kurt smiled broadly and finally leaned the last fraction of an inch forward so that their lips pressed together, kissing her so slowly that it almost felt like they were moving in slow motion. It wasn't _too_ slow, though – on the contrary, it was perfect, as if they were savoring it. After all, they were.

When they finally stopped, they didn't pull apart. Instead, they just slowed down until they stopped moving, their lips still overlapping each other. He could feel her smile though he couldn't see her expression, even when he opened his eyes, since their faces were still so close together. All he could see were her eyes, which she'd just opened as well, and she was looking back into his. Ever since the first time they'd met, he'd been intrigued by her eyes and their brilliant green color.

Their lips remained gently pressed together, both of them seeming unwilling to let go, for almost a full minute. When they finally did pull back, smiling and feeling slightly self-conscious, it again felt like they were moving in slow motion. They didn't move far from each other, however, only just far enough for him to lean his nose against hers.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered, and she couldn't help but think back to the first time he'd told her that, a million years ago when they'd been strangers to each other.

That day, it had only been a matter of hours since they'd met, and yet he'd promised her something that he couldn't possibly know for sure. Yes, it had been his intention even then to do everything he could for her. That day had been even before he'd first suspected that she could be Taylor, when all he did know was that his name was inked on her back for a reason, albeit one that he didn't understand. Maybe he'd had no business making her such a promise that day, but he'd done it anyway.

Now it was different. He understood now… not the reason why Shepherd had wanted any of this to happen, or the reason why Remi had agreed to give up her own life, in effect, to send herself to the FBI. No, but he knew that the reason why his name had ended up on her back had been to bring them together. Not so that she could infiltrate the FBI, though that _had_ been Sandstorm's goal… but so that they could save each other. None of them had _known_ that that was the reason, perhaps, but it had simply been the way that it was supposed to happen.

She hadn't known what 'being okay' felt like back then, the first time he'd told her that she would be… but she did now. And not just 'okay,' but something so much more powerful than that. Maybe she _had_ felt like this at some point in her life, back when she had been Alice and she'd had parents who had loved her. Before the orphanage. Before Shepherd. Before… everything that she'd done and couldn't – and _didn't want to_ – remember.

Maybe she _had_ felt this secure, this safe, this loved, when she was a child, but it had been so long ago, and her memory had been erased since then – twice, really… once through brainwashing and once chemically – that if such feelings had ever been familiar to her, all traces of them had been erased. Consequently, despite the fact that the feeling was everything she could have hoped for, that she'd wanted so desperately, it was simultaneously terrifying. She might not have known what 'okay' felt like before, but she certainly _did_ know what it felt like to lose everything.

While the feeling of being okay, of being happy, may have scared her more than anything except possibly the idea that she could _lose_ that feeling, what held her grounded solidly in that moment and reminded her to breathe was, well, right in front of her. _Kurt_. Staring into his eyes, even though she was afraid to believe that it could actually be okay, she knew that there was no one in the world who she could believe in more. She may have been afraid of her emotions, but she was not afraid of _him_. He was there with her, and as long as he was, it _would_ be okay.

No, she hadn't known what being 'okay' felt like before, but at that moment, she realized that now she did.

 _It feels like this,_ she thought, awestruck, as she breathed deeply.

"Yeah… I… think it is," she agreed quietly. He heard the surprise in her voice, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Good," he said, reaching up to kiss her forehead once more and then leaning back to look her squarely in the eye. "Do you feel better?"

She smiled back at him, flooded with relief. "Yeah," she replied softly. Her forehead creased in frustration then, as she was unable to put into words just how much better she felt. 'Better' was simply inadequate. It was like calling a tsunami 'a lot of water.'

Watching the change in her face as emotion threatened to overwhelm her yet again, he shook his head and leaned forward again, this time leaning the tip of his nose against the bridge of hers, and then dragging the tip of his nose slowly lower along hers until their faces were even again, before leaning to the side to kiss her cheek.

"That's all that matters," he told her, immediately feeling her face lean against his. He stayed there only for a few seconds before he moved back again to look at her. Really, it was a struggle between being as close to her as possible and being able to look at her, which was why he kept alternating between the two. "Now shall we go back to sleep for a little bit? So that we can wake up together here one more time? Because I think you need a do-over on the whole waking up thing," he told her. The implication, of course, was that that meant that they were leaving that day, but her smile didn't falter.

In fact, her smile widened at his words. "I like waking up with you," she told him. "Even more than I would ever have guessed."

"So that's a yes?" he asked her with a grin.

" _Of course_ ," she said, smiling back at him as she shifted positions. She rolled onto her left side so that she faced the wall, and then slid back until her back was pressed against his chest, feeling his arm immediately wind around her waist.

He chuckled at the ease with which she'd completed the change in position. He was still propped up on his elbow, and he was now lying tucked securely behind her without having had to move at all. "Comfy?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Very," she replied, glancing over her shoulder at him. He took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss her cheek, then lay his head down on the pillow just behind hers, snaking his arm under her side of it and leaning his forehead against her hair.

She mumbled something that he couldn't quite hear, and pulled his arm more tightly around her. "I didn't quite catch that," he said into her hair. Turning back over her right shoulder, she smiled at him as if she wasn't sure whether to believe him.

"You didn't?" she asked in surprise.

"You're facing the other way," he chuckled, "You have to speak up a little."

"Okay," she replied, her eyes dancing. "I said… I love you."

The sensation that overtook him then was one that he could only have described as a head rush. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before, as if adrenaline had suddenly flooded his system.

"Funny," he said, recovering quickly, "you took the words right out of my mouth." The wattage of her smile increased, and she turned back around only to lean her head straight back, trying to be as close to him as possible. "I love you, too," he whispered, and felt her breathing falter for just a second – in a _good_ way, if that was possible. He felt like just then it was likely that she was just as overwhelmed as he was – in the _best_ possible way, of course.

It took a little while before both of their heartbeats slowed back down to near normal from the rush of love-induced adrenaline they'd both been feeling, but before too long they were both drifting back to sleep. It was still early enough that, since it was an overcast winter dawn, it was almost as dark as if it had been the middle of the night.

They slept for a few more hours, each of them occasionally stirring – since neither of them was accustomed to sleeping in – only to be just conscious enough of their surroundings and how very happy and comfortable they were to be able to slip easily back to sleep for a little while longer. When light finally began creeping through the curtains, and a familiar smell began to invade their nostrils, however, they both found themselves finally unable to fall back to sleep.

 _How does this seem to get better every time?_ Jane wondered, feeling slightly drunk on the delicious feeling of waking up together. She pulled his arm tighter around her so that she could move his hand up beside her cheek and rest her face against it. Kurt, no longer asleep either, gave away this fact by turning his hand around and using his thumb to stroke the cheek that Jane had just leaned against him. He was rewarded by the fact that he could feel her smile against his fingers. It only lasted a few seconds, however, before he felt her shift, turning over to lay on her stomach and scooting herself as close to him as possible, so that her head was on his shoulder, her left knee draped over his, and her left hand flat on his chest.

"Good morning, again," she whispered. "I like this do-over." His laugh rumbled in his chest underneath her, his left hand resting on the spot on her back where he knew that, beneath her t-shirt, lay his name.

"Good morning, again," he replied, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. The fingertips of his right hand traced up and down gently along the left side of her neck, where the bird tattoo was etched, though he couldn't see it just then.

Shivering slightly from the sensation, she could only hope that he couldn't smell what she thought she smelled. It appeared that Sarah was cooking breakfast, and this time there was obviously bacon involved. However, Jane wanted nothing more than for him to stay exactly where he was, not to be tempted by bacon, and to continue to do exactly what he was doing for as long as humanly possible. Maybe Kurt wouldn't notice how good it smelled…

"I'm going to have to insist that we stay here indefinitely," she mumbled against his t-shirt.

"Oh? Clearfield's growing on you, huh?" he asked, pretending to misunderstand her and, since she couldn't see his face, grinning madly at his own joke.

"Not really," she replied casually. " _You_ , on the other hand…" she smiled into his shoulder, thinking about how cheesy her words sounded.

His right hand stopped tracing up and down her neck, slowing near the bird tattoo. His fingers went flat against her skin and moved around behind her back, moving onto the spot where he knew the oil derrick tattoo lay. Slowly, the tips of his fingers disappeared below the neckline of her shirt, along the skin of her upper back. His fingers stilled there, an inch or less past the edge of her shirt, against the part of the same tattoo that was not visible, at least when she wore that particular shirt. Not feeling her tense at this action, he turned and nuzzled his nose against her forehead.

"I'm growing on you, then?" he asked softly.

"Maybe," she replied, "But don't let it go to your head, Weller," she told him quietly, feeling his chest rumble again as he chuckled.

"I really don't see how I can help it," he told her, shaking his head calmly as if he _wasn't_ completely delighted. "I get to have a beautiful woman laying here with me, telling me not to move," he said, as if it was simply a fact. "How can that _not_ go to my head?" He asked the question as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and she immediately felt herself blushing. Before she could form a response, he'd leaned his head down close to hers and whispered, "And yes, you _are_."

Smiling against him once again, she couldn't help but think that that moment could not have been more perfect. She turned slightly to lean her face down against his chest, planting a kiss against the soft cotton of his t-shirt that sat directly over his heart.

Under the fabric, the spot where Jane had kissed radiated heat throughout his chest, spreading everywhere at once.

The fingers on his right hand had been sitting flat against the oil derrick tattoo for several minutes. After she kissed the spot over his heart, however, those fingers began to move gently beneath the soft fabric of her shirt, in small, slow circles against her skin, giving her goosebumps.

She looked up at him, and for a second he wondered if what he was doing was _too much_ , if he was going to see something in her eyes that told him to stop. After all, he had no idea where the line was, and above all he wanted to avoid making her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Instead, he saw warmth, happiness and, if he wasn't mistaken… awe?

When she used the words from his thought in a different way, it shouldn't have surprised him, but it still did. Yes, they had an intense connection, but… how did she _know_?

"You're too much," she whispered.

"Says the woman who's worried about things going to my head?" he asked, laughing softly, making her blush and lean her cheek against his chest once again. He shook his head, pressing his face into her hair. "You know it's funny that you should say that, because that was exactly what I was going for," he told her. "After all, you needed more happy memories to outnumber the bad ones, remember?" he asked, alluding to their earlier conversation… When was it, anyway?

 _Was it really only been a few days ago?_ she wondered. It felt like months, but not in a bad way… in the way that the feeling of being alone in the world, of constantly needing walls around her to protect her from her emotions so that she didn't feel them more than necessary, felt long ago and far away.

 _A lot sure has changed in the past few days_ , she thought in amazement.

 _This is the way it always should have been_ , the voice in her head insisted.

 _Maybe,_ she thought with a hesitant smile.

"And what's going on in _your_ head?" he asked, rousing her from her thoughts.

"Mmmmmm…" she hummed. She tuned out the words and the analysis and focused on his hand on her back, tracing the tattoo that he couldn't see, and the other one, which had moved from the spot where his name was, and was now resting loosely on her lower back.

"You know that you didn't actually use any words just now, right?" he asked in amusement.

Without moving her cheek off of her chest, she moved her left hand up to his shoulder and began slowly tracing the neckline of his shirt. "I know," she replied after a minute.

"That good, huh?" he asked quietly. When she nodded her head, she felt the rumble of a silent chuckle beneath her.

"Good," he said simply, perfectly content.

Yes, they would need to get up soon. Yes, the plan was to get on the road sooner than later. But if the two of them had earned anything that weekend, it was a little time lying there still together.

It wouldn't always be this simple, he knew. Likely not even half of the time, and probably a lot less than that. But that was okay. Whatever it took, it was worth it.

"Don't you dare tell me we have to get up," she told him warningly, her eyes having fallen closed as she focused only on where she was in that moment.

"Not _yet_ ," he said soothingly, glancing at the clock.

She sighed, knowing that the moment couldn't last forever, no matter how perfect it was and how much she wished she could freeze time.

He pulled both of his arms around her tighter then, trying to transfer words of reassurance that he couldn't figure out how to articulate through his touch.

 _It feels like this,_ she reminded herself, her own words from earlier echoing in her head. _Not just_ _okay. Not just_ _ **happy**_ _, even. Better than content or comfortable or safe or even special or accepted._ She felt all of these things with him, and they were all important, of course, but it was even more than that.

She wasn't actually sure that there was even a word for how she felt, lying there, her mind quiet for once.

 _Maybe that's it,_ she thought suddenly.

For as long as she could remember, which wasn't long, of course, turmoil had swirled around her no matter what she did. Different kinds on different days, but always something, and often so heavy that she felt as though it would crush her, no matter how strong she vowed to be. But there, in that moment, when it was only the two of them and for just a moment, they had managed to leave behind the baggage that they each carried, that was when she felt it – a different sensation.

 _It was peace_ , she realized. _Because of him._

Maybe things _would_ work out for them, after all.


	35. Everything

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

Eventually, they did get up. Kurt wandered downstairs and talked to Sarah and Sawyer while Jane took a shower, and when Jane eventually showed up downstairs, clean and dressed, Kurt went back upstairs for a turn in the bathroom.

Jane had watched Kurt leave the kitchen, and then turned back to find Sarah watching _her_ with a knowing smile. Jane grinned self-consciously, looking away. After all, Sarah had made her feelings about the two of them abundantly clear – that she thought that they were adorable – but Jane still felt a little funny about having an audience, even a supportive one, for whatever was happening between herself and Kurt.

"Kurt said that you guys should be heading back to New York today," Sarah said casually.

With a small sigh, Jane nodded, looking back at the other woman. "Yep, back to work," she said, trying to keep her tone light. She did feel better after that morning, after all, and she knew that for the time being, she was going to have to take the rest of it on faith and hope for the best. Kurt had certainly earned at least a chance, after all.

"Well you should have good weather for the drive, at least," Sarah told her, peering at the screen on her phone. "It's supposed to be cold but sunny today. No snow in the forecast. And the roads should be pretty well plowed by now… they're pretty good about that."

Jane nodded, not wanting to think about leaving, but knowing that it was inevitable – she was still trying to convince herself that it would be fine. With clear weather, they could be back in the city by mid-afternoon, if they got on the road sometime soon.

"I hate to see the weekend end, honestly," Jane admitted. "But I suppose that since it's _Tuesday_ , I have to surrender to the fact that it has already ended." She hadn't realized it until after the words had come out of her mouth, but just then she remembered Kurt, a long time ago, telling Rich Dotcom, ' _It's Tuesday.'_ In her head, she heard it in Kurt's voice and it made her smile.

And then, of course, there had been Rich's non-sensical response. _Well, it's Friday somewhere_. She smiled at the memory of that first day they'd spent undercover, pretending to be husband and wife when really, they'd barely known each other. Still, the chemistry between them had allowed them to play their parts believably, to the point where Rich had been disappointed to later find out that they weren't actually married, and had been actively campaigning for them to get together ever since.

 _If only it were that simple,_ she thought immediately, only remembering a second later that she didn't have to wish anymore. She'd conditioned herself so thoroughly to remind herself not to want something between them, for a second she'd forgotten that she'd actually gotten her wish.

Again, the thought made her smile, and she glanced back at Sarah, who was again watching her with a smile. "Sorry," Jane said quickly, "my thoughts are running away with me this morning."

"Well whatever you're thinking about, it's making you look pretty happy," Sarah replied with a sly grin. "Or… _whoever_ you're thinking about."

Jane blushed slightly, smiling again instinctively and knowing that Sarah could probably guess what was making her look so happy. It wasn't as though it was that hard, after all.

"I am," Jane replied, "the happiest that I can remember."

"Well, good," Sarah said simply, giving her a knowing smile. "Oh! How could I forget? There's coffee, if you want some," she told Jane, glancing back at the counter.

"That sounds great, thanks," Jane said, walking toward it.

In less than a minute Jane had settled herself at the kitchen table with a large mug of coffee. Sarah, meanwhile, was standing at the counter, and had just started chopping what looked like a mountain of various fruits.

"Can I help you with anything?" Jane asked her.

"Nope, under control," Sarah replied over her shoulder. "I made Sawyer some breakfast earlier – after which he promptly went back to bed – but I wanted to make a nice breakfast for all of us again before you guys left. Which, I'm sure Sawyer will appear for as soon as I set it on the table, by the way," she laughed.

"Thank you, again, this weekend has been exactly what I didn't even know that I needed," Jane told her sincerely.

"Well, I think my brother gets more credit for that than I do," Sarah grinned at her, "but you're welcome. I'm glad you've enjoyed it. We don't have much in the way of family, but we do our best."

"I know that Kurt misses having you guys around," Jane told her. "How do you like it out west?"

Sarah sighed, putting down the knife she was using and turning around to look at Jane thoughtfully. "Well, it has its pros and cons," she started slowly. "I'm glad that Sawyer's getting time with his dad – not a lot of it, mind you… but some. More than he was when we were in New York, that's for sure. But… it's been an adjustment. The west coast is different, and… I did love New York."

There was a wistful look on Sarah's face for a few seconds, before she seemed to realize that she'd become lost in her own thoughts, just as Jane had a few minutes before. Looking back up at Jane, Sarah forced a smile back onto her face. "It's getting better," she said determinedly. "I'm giving it a chance. And you never know what the future holds." Her smile looked more genuine then, and Jane nodded.

"That much is for _sure_ ," Jane agreed whole heartedly. After all, a few months ago she would never in a million years have thought that she'd be where she was now. If anyone had predicted it, she'd have told them that they'd lost their mind.

"It's what keeps life exciting, right?" Sarah asked, her customary wide smile back on her face.

"Absolutely," Jane agreed.

"So, what's new in here, ladies?" Kurt asked, walking through the doorway of the kitchen, now showered and dressed. "And what do I smell, Sarah? It smells really good… did someone sneak in here and bake something?" His eyebrows rose and fell several times in quick succession as he teased his sister good-naturedly, all the while walking across the kitchen towards Jane. He hadn't even thought about it, he'd simply been drawn to where she was from the moment he'd entered the room, as though he was pulled into a gravitational field that he was powerless to resist… _not_ that he wanted to, of course.

"Very funny," Sarah replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes at him as she turned back to the fruit she'd been cutting. "I'll have you know that that was 100% _me_."

Kurt just grinned at her for a few seconds, until she'd turned around to look at him over her shoulder and smile at him, then he turned his full attention to Jane. As soon as he'd walked up behind her, while still talking to Sarah, his hands had gone to her shoulders, his thumbs kneading gently against the skin at the base of her neck. With Sarah's attention now back on the food, he leaned down and kissed the top of Jane's head.

"Over here, on the other hand," he observed as he slowly raised his head again, "it smells like coffee."

"There's plenty," Sarah called from the far side of the room, waving a hand at the coffee machine. Jane had turned around to look at him, smiling happily.

"I'll be right back," he told her, giving her shoulders a squeeze before reluctantly letting go and walking to the counter for coffee. Jane watched as he poured his coffee and then, before returning to the table, attempted to steal a strawberry from the pile that Sarah was working diligently on cutting. To his dismay, she caught him, and it was only when she threatened him with the paring knife in her hand that he backed away.

"Okay, okay," Kurt said in mock horror, "I'm going." Taking his coffee and walking back to the table, he chuckled at his sister's protectiveness over the fruit. He sat down in the chair beside Jane's, immediately pulling her chair closer to his and leaning towards her. She leaned towards him as well, and by the time Sarah looked back over her shoulder a minute later, they were nearly glued to each other's sides once again.

There was a loud beeping noise that rang out through the kitchen all of a sudden, and Sarah sprang to attention. She silenced the alarm with the touch of a button on the control panel on the stove, and then cracked it open to check on whatever it was that Kurt had smelled a few minutes before. "Perfect," she declared, taking a potholder in each hand and opening the door of the oven wide so that she could remove whatever had been inside. Setting the large, hot pan on the burners, she carefully closed the oven and looked down at her creation proudly.

"So, was I smelling bacon earlier?" Kurt asked her, and she grinned at him over her shoulder.

"Yep, you were," she replied. "Sawyer ate what I made in about ten seconds flat. There's more, though, and we should eat it. There's far too much food in this house and the two of us are leaving tomorrow." She glanced around the room slightly wistfully then, and added, "Before you guys leave, you should look around. If you want anything from here, you should take it. And I know," she added, cutting him off before he could utter a word, "your memories here aren't the happiest… but just in case."

Kurt held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll think about it," he promised, which was met with Sarah's approving nod.

Dumping the fruit into a large bowl and walking to the refrigerator, she said, "Alright, we're almost ready. I'll just make some bacon," she told them. "And then we can eat."

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Jane asked, leaning against Kurt. She was perfectly happy where she was, of course, but she would have been happy to help Sarah.

"I'm sure," she replied. "You two stay right where you are." After a pause of only a few seconds, she added, "As a matter of fact…" Trailing off, she took her phone from the counter and clicked on the screen several times before holding it up lengthwise in front of her, facing them. It was pretty clear what she as doing.

"Smile!" she told them. "I've barely taken any pictures this weekend, and somehow I don't think I have any of you two." After a few seconds she looked satisfied with what she saw on the screen, and after another few seconds she turned her phone for them to see the image of the two of them, sitting close together with their cups of coffee in front of them.

Kurt pressed his chin over her shoulder to see the picture from Jane's angle, to avoid the glare on the screen, feeling the side of Jane's head lean against his almost immediately. Sarah withdrew her phone and clicked the screen again. "Stay just like that," she told them, and Kurt chuckled as she quickly turned her phone back around to take another pictures of them. "Okay, got it," she told them. "You guys are too adorable. It's disgusting. I love it."

They both laughed quietly as Sarah put a large skillet on the stove and began cooking the bacon. The sound of sizzling filled the kitchen and the smell wasn't far behind. Within less than two minutes, Sawyer had rejoined them as well, sitting bleary-eyed across the table from Kurt and looking as though he was still mostly asleep.

"Good morning, buddy," Kurt said to him. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Bacon," Sawyer grumbled, making all three adults laugh.

"Coming right up," Sarah called, "along with a few other things."

Less than five minutes later, they all had plates of bacon, fruit salad and cinnamon rolls in front of them, and they were eating happily.

"These are delicious, Sarah," Jane told her.

"Yes, please come back to New York soon," Kurt added. "I insist."

Sarah laughed, reaching out to swat him across the table. "As I recall, someone has always been pretty critical of my cooking," she recalled. "Obviously you just didn't appreciate me when I was there."

"That's because you didn't know _how to cook_ when you lived in New York," Kurt clarified. "It was pretty bad."

Sarah looked at Jane, pretending to be shocked, and Jane just looked down at her plate, stifling a laugh. She'd witnessed Sarah's culinary skills, or lack thereof. It had only been on a few passing occasions, including the dinner that she'd only stayed for five minutes of the first night they'd met, but it was enough that she could appreciate the difference.

"I wasn't _that_ bad," Sarah insisted. Jane kept her eyes on her plate, trying to be polite, while Kurt laughed out loud.

"There's your answer," he said triumphantly, looking at Jane and then back at Sarah. "She's just too nice to say it."

"I see that _you_ don't have that problem," Sarah said, narrowing her eyes at her brother, but having to hold back a smile of her own. She knew that she hadn't been a great cook, but she was only now seeing that she'd been worse than she'd thought.

Jane peeked up and looked from Kurt to Sarah, trying to determine if it was safe to look up without being pulled into their disagreement as a witness. Sarah looked at her again, eyebrows raised, and despite the smile on Sarah's face, Jane felt the urge to apologize. "Sorry, Sarah," she said, biting her lip for a second before quickly taking another bite of her food.

"Well," Sarah said, completely unfazed, "now I have an extra reason that you guys should come out and visit us in Portland." She looked from Kurt to Jane, and then held up her hand before Kurt could say anything – though he'd opened his mouth to start. "And yes, I know, your jobs make it very hard to make plans at all, much less to travel across the country…"

Kurt sat back in his chair and closed his mouth, amused that she'd just taken the words right out of it for him.

"You have mentioned it a few times before, you know," Sarah informed him.

With a sigh, Kurt shook his head. "I know, I'm sorry…"

But Sarah shook her head right back at him. "Hey, I get it. My brother is very important. The two of you guys save the world on a regular basis. But one of these days, I'll get you out there…" She smiled at them, absolutely no frustration visible in her eyes.

"I hope so," Kurt told her. "Unless you throw in the towel and come back to the East Coast before that happens."

"You never know," Sarah told him.

"Stranger things have certainly happened," Jane interjected, shrugging her shoulders and smiling from one of them to the other. After all, her life was certainly proof of that.

"And thank goodness they have," Kurt said, holding his coffee cup up as if he were toasting with it. "To stranger things."

Both women smiled, and raised their half empty cups to clink against his. "To stranger things," they both echoed.

Jane lowered her cup slowly, glancing over at Kurt. Sarah had gone back to her food, and for a second Jane and Kurt held eye contact with each other, the look they shared saying a lot more than words would have been able to in that short amount of time. They didn't need words for it anyway.

She didn't mind being a 'stranger thing' in his life. It wasn't as though she could claim that her life _hadn't_ been strange, after all. But strange was fine with her, because while it may have made her a bit of an oddity, it had landed her squarely in the right place at the right time. _Here_. _Now_.

There was a lull in conversation as they all focused on their food, and as much as they wished that they had the time to sit and linger at the table, it wasn't too much longer before they were clearing their dishes.

"So, you're sure you can't stick around another day?" Sarah asked, reluctant to bring up the subject, but feeling as though she had to at least _try_.

Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket and clicked the screen several times, looked at in intently. "Looks like the weather isn't going to be an issue today, so…" He looked up at his sister apologetically. "We really do need to be getting back."

Jane, of course, didn't have the same urgency that Kurt did, since his job was the one that made his presence in the office essential. Still, she liked how he'd said, " _We_ really do need to be getting back," despite the fact that _she_ wasn't the one who needed to get back. It made her feel like they were a unit, a team… which she supposed they were, and now in a whole new way.

"Well, I'll take care of this mess," Sarah said, waving vaguely at the counter. "You guys go ahead and get yourselves organized."

"Are you sure?" Jane asked, feeling guilty.

"Absolutely," Sarah said, "I insist." Then, looking at Kurt, she said, "And I think I already told you this, but if there's anything in the house that you decide you want, _take it_. You won't get another chance." He just nodded, looking like he was humoring her, but she hoped that he'd keep an open mind. After all, there could be _something_ in the house that he wanted to keep…

"Thanks, Sarah," Kurt said, smiling at her and then walking toward the front of the house. Jane also smiled at Sarah before following Kurt upstairs. Their pace was slow but deliberate, and they were both quiet. Once they were in the bedroom, they saw just how little time packing would take. They'd kept their things relatively contained, so it only took a few minutes to gather them back up again.

"Can't forget our toiletries," Kurt said, heading for the hall to grab their things from the bathroom. Now alone in the room, Jane glanced at the window, but didn't feel compelled to walk towards it. Despite the fact that this house held no history for her, somehow this trip had been just as important for her as it had for him. As much better as she was feeling about things, however, she couldn't help the uncertainty she felt at the idea that they were heading back to New York.

When he let himself back into the bedroom a minute later, he found Jane sitting on the bed, their bags sitting side by side on the floor. Her hands were clasped together, and she was staring at her lap.

With a sigh, but without a word, he walked to the small desk and put down the things he was holding, then walked the remaining few steps to the bed, sitting down close beside her on her right side. Reaching out his left hand, he took her right in his, pulling it over to him and holding it between both of his hands in front of him. She smiled, though it was a forced smile, but didn't look up. He was watching her, she knew, so it didn't come as a surprise when he squeezed her hand between his. She finally looked up at him then, feeling uncertain – but only until she met his eyes. In them she saw the same devotion she always had, and that was when her smile turned genuine once again.

 _It's going to be okay,_ she told herself, firmly repeating the words that he had said to her many times now. He didn't say anything, but his eyes said the same words, looking at her so steadily, so honestly, that it was inconceivable to her that he didn't mean what he'd said – or in this case, what he _hadn't_ said.

"Ready?" he asked.

"If you are," she replied, suddenly looking – and feeling – more confident again. Without letting go of her hand, he stood up and once again pulled her to her feet as well. They retrieved their respective toiletries bags from the desk, and then only reluctantly let go of each other's hand so they could put them into their bags.

"You're supposed to take anything you want to take from here," Jane reminded him gently. She knew that this house wasn't a place that he'd wanted to think about at all for many years, but now that he'd turned a corner, she hated to think that there might be something, however small, that he would someday regret not taking.

"Do you want the books?" he asked her, glancing from the copy of 1984 that she'd been reading the night before to the rest of the books on the shelf.

"This is _your_ stuff. From your childhood. It's _yours_ ," she replied, almost pleadingly, wondering how this had suddenly been turned around on her. It was supposed to be about what _he_ wanted to keep, after all.

"Well," he said slowly, "think of it this way. I've read the books, you haven't. I don't have great memories of my childhood, which is when they're from, but at the end of the day, they're just _books_. Useful objects with a little bit of history to them. I may or may not ever read them again. Would _you_ read them?"

She glanced at the bookshelf and thought for only a second, then shrugged, her mind wandering to all the downtime at her safe house when she wished for something to occupy her mind besides her thoughts. "Probably," she admitted.

"Okay, then why don't we think of it another way," he said. She noticed a slight smile on his face, and she wondered what exactly he was up to. "Why don't we take the books? You can keep them at your safe house for now. If you decide you're done with them as you read them, or that you don't want to keep a particular one for whatever reason, then we'll decide what to do with them then. We can always donate them to charity if we change our minds."

She heard the words he was saying, but after the first sentence, she'd only been half listening. The question, 'Why don't _we_ take the books?' was all she needed. It was no longer Jane taking them, it was the two of them together. The fact that she'd have them at her place for the time being wasn't nearly as important as the fact that she'd heard him say ' _we_.'

 _Such a small word, and yet it means so much_ , she couldn't help but think. Looking back up at him, she nodded, smiling shyly. "Okay," she agreed.

"I'll go get a box," he said, leaving the room and returning a few minutes later. This time when he came back into the room, he found her in front of the bookshelf, staring at the various titles.

"Mostly, they're books I had to read for school," he said, walking up behind her and setting the box down on the floor. As soon as his hands were free, they went lightly to her shoulders, staying there only a minute as he stood behind her, but slightly to the left side, before they smoothed down the sides of her arms and then locked together around the front of her.

A flash of self-pity flared up in her, as she wondered what it must be like to remember your childhood.

"None of them even sound familiar," she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice despite her best effort to keep it out.

"Not yet," he said softly, leaning his cheek against her temple and pulling his arms just a little bit tighter. "They will."

She tried to hold them in, but the words tumbled out of her mouth of their own accord.

"I can't even imagine what it's like to remember being a kid…" she said softly, staring toward the books, but no longer seeing them.

 _Then again,_ she thought, _think of what you would probably remember of your childhood, if you had those memories. It probably wouldn't be books… and you probably wouldn't like it. And besides, Kurt is proof enough that just having your memories doesn't make everything okay. There are some memories that he's wished for his whole life that he could forget, after all…_

"But I guess, if I _could_ remember, that would probably be worse… with everything I went through. I'd literally be a different person. And I would never wish for that… I guess people can never have exactly what they want – I want to remember, or I feel like I do, anyway – and you want to forget…"

He'd leaned down slightly so that his cheek pressed against hers. "It's true that it's easy to feel dissatisfied if you focus on what you don't have," he said slowly, in a soft voice beside her ear. "No one's life is perfect. But I have everything I want. For a very long time, I did wish I could forget… Taylor… and just… all of it. But not anymore. The path my life took very literally led me to you… and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

She had to struggle to try to breathe normally, because the impact of his words threatened to take her breath away. Even though she knew how deep his feelings ran, she was still surprised to hear him articulate them. Leaning into him, she felt him pulling his arms around her a little tighter.

It didn't bother him that she didn't say anything. He'd said what he wanted to say, and it had been the honest truth. He'd felt her flinch in his arms at his admission, not because it bothered her, but because she wasn't used to being told that she was important to anyone. After convincing herself that she wasn't, it was a scary thing to face. He'd been there, and he knew it. She didn't need to say anything… as he did so often with her, he just _knew._

He forced himself to loosen his arms from around her after a minute or so, knowing that otherwise he'd happily remain standing there all day, and they needed to keep moving. Leaning down to pick up the box once again, he set it on the corner of the desk and began taking the books off of the shelf, piling them neatly inside. As he did, Jane spotted something, and she stepped around him to the bookshelf to investigate. The pile he'd just picked up had revealed a small, square, black lacquered box, maybe three inches wide on each side.

"What's this?" she asked, adding, "It was behind the books."

Kurt just stared at it as though he'd seen a ghost, not moving for more than a minute, as Jane wondered what she'd just stumbled on and why it had the effect on him that it seemed to. More than likely, it had something to do with Taylor. Nothing else seemed to affect him that much, after all.

Stepping closer to the bookshelf, a hint of a smile mixed with a hint of sadness on his face, he reached out for it slowly. He picked it up gently, as if he was afraid it would break.

"She called it _Taylor's wish box,_ " he said quietly. "It was mine, something I think my mom gave me when I was little – I don't remember how old I was but… I had to have been young… because she gave it to me before she… _left_."

The last word was filled with so much hurt, and she wondered how his mother, whoever and wherever she now was, could have been so cruel as to subject her son to a lifetime of insecurity, of questions, and of hurt. While she knew that it _happened,_ she simply could not understand how someone could just abandon their child like that.

Jane moved closer to him, threading her left hand into the crook of his right arm and leaning against his shoulder, just listening.

"After my mom left, I didn't want to look at the box. It sat empty on my shelf for a long time, until one time Taylor saw it and wanted to play with it. Little kids _love_ little things that open, where they can hide things…" A hint of a smile flickered across his face as he remembered Taylor playing with it, the first time when she was only a few years old.

"Taylor… I don't think she understood _why_ it bothered me – she was so much younger – only that it did. As she got older, and she saw that it still bothered me… she wanted the box to have something _in_ it, something that would help make me feel better about it." He smiled at the memory of the day she'd told him that. It wasn't a vision, the way the rest of his memories of her had been in that house. This time he didn't see her there in front of him, it was simply a regular memory.

"She was only just learning to write, but she made me help her spell out the things she wished for on tiny little slips of paper so she could put them in," he said, realizing that they might still be in there, and looking down at the box with a mixture of curiosity and dread. It was like a time capsule back, going back to a time that he had long since forced himself to forget about… at least as much as it was possible.

"Wow," Jane whispered, not sure what else to say. She wondered if that meant that the papers were still inside the box, but it wasn't her place to ask. In a way, she wished that there was something like this for her to find that would tell her about her own past. Again, it was strange how she wished for something that Kurt seemed to have but not necessarily want.

 _But it wouldn't be_ _ **your**_ _past,_ she reminded herself, _it would be Remi's._ Turning her attention back to Kurt, she waited to see what he would do.

After staring at the box for another minute, he reached his left hand up slowly to remove the lid, putting it down carefully on the shelf in front of him. There inside he could see slips of paper with small, uneven handwriting on them, and his breath caught in his throat. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to look at anything of Taylor's – her mother had given him a few small things – and even though he'd known what the box had held, it was almost a surprise that they were still there.

Turning the box over into his left hand, he put it back down on the shelf so that he could examine the small slips of paper. Holding them as though they could turn to dust if he wasn't careful with them, he very slowly flipped the pile back over so that he could read them in the order they would have come out of the box if he'd been able to take them out one at a time.

On the paper that was on top of the pile, Taylor had scrawled the words, "I wish I had a pony named Buttercup." He chuckled softly, holding it still so that Jane could see it too. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, partially to get a better look, and partially because she wanted to be closer to him. It felt like a moment when her support was important, after all. She tightened her arm around his, smiling sadly.

As he set that slip of paper face down on the desk, they looked at the next one. "I wish mommy didn't have to work so much." Despite the fact that he'd told himself that he could look at these and not fall apart, this one hurt just a little bit more when he read it. After all, if her mom had been there, if it hadn't been _him_ who'd failed to take care of her that night, his father wouldn't have been able to…

He felt Jane squeeze her arm in his, and press her cheek harder against the side of his arm below his shoulder. Sighing heavily, he wanted to say something to her, but couldn't find the words.

"It's not your fault," he heard her whisper, and he could only nod, grateful for the reminder.

 _How funny that it's her saying it to me_ , he thought. She had said those words to him once before, in a slightly different context, but for the most part, he was the one to tell her that what had happened to her wasn't her fault.

 _Let it go,_ he heard Taylor telling him, and he took a deep breath as he set that slip of paper down. He was beginning to dread what he would see next.

"I wish my daddy was here," the next slip said.

He shook his head, trying to remember when she'd written that one, and what she'd been saying. "She never knew him," he told Jane quietly. " _I_ don't even remember him. He must have been here at some point. I mean, he probably was. I remember when she came home from the hospital… but then again, it's possible that by that point, he was already gone. I just remember Emma Shaw being a single mom."

 _Poor kid,_ Jane thought, but decided not to say it out loud. _She really didn't deserve any of it._ Once again, the only comforting thought that Jane could come up with was that through Taylor's whole, short life, she had been loved by Kurt, and Jane knew from experience just how much that would have helped her. Outwardly, Jane only nodded, holding tight to his arm and keeping her face leaned against him.

Slowly, Kurt moved the slip of paper to the pile on the desk, hoping that he was ready for whatever the next one said. "I wish I had a magic wand," the slip of paper now on top of the shrinking pile said. Suddenly he remembered having this conversation with her, and he smiled, shaking his head.

"I remember this," he said absently. "She was telling me all the things that she would do with her magic wand." He tilted his head slightly, trying to remember them. "She wanted to make animals talk, so she could have conversations with them, she wanted an unlimited supply of ice cream…" He felt Jane chuckle against him, but didn't look at her. "Because, well, who doesn't?" he added. "She wanted… a puppy, I think. I guess that was to go along with the pony." His head was shaking before he even realized it, a smile on his face for once. He'd like to have a magic wand, himself, but he didn't let his thoughts go in that direction.

When he started to turn that paper over onto the others, he realized disappointedly that there was only one left in his hand. Looking down at it slowly, he had to catch his breath when he read it, the letters especially tiny so that she could fit it on the paper. There in front of him were words that made tears blur his vision. "I wish everyone could have a best friend as nice as Kurt."

Jane's left arm remained securely wrapped around his right, but her right hand came up to her mouth in an attempt to stifle a quiet gasp when she read the last slip of paper. Without thinking, she squeezed his arm tighter, and felt tears immediately springing to her own eyes. It was the sweetest thing she thought she'd ever read – that was what made it so heartbreaking. And even though Taylor's death was what had, ultimately, allowed her to be where she was, at that moment she wished with everything inside her that Taylor's fate had been different. That she hadn't been a victim of whatever Bill Weller had done to her, but instead that she had grown up with Kurt and been a young woman today.

Of course, as much sadness as she felt over Taylor, it didn't mean that she wasn't glad to be where she was. On the contrary, she could not have been more relieved and grateful that fate had allowed her to have found Kurt, and for them to have reached the place that they had. It was a difficult set of contrasting feelings – wishing for Taylor to have survived, all the while knowing that she would probably have still been Remi, doing God knows what, if that had happened.

Kurt set the slip on paper down on top of the others, feeling slightly dizzy. He turned to his right, where Jane was already holding on to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly and feeling her arms shift, wrapping around him as well, anchoring him to both the spot where they stood, and to the present time. Her left hand stayed still, flat against his lower back, while her right hand moved up and down, a little bit closer to the middle of his back.

She could feel him sigh heavily against her, and her heart broke for him once again. They stood still like that for a few minutes, just holding on, before she felt him straightening, and she slowly released her grip on him.

"You okay?" she asked him hopefully, looking up into his face. It seemed like too much to hope for, because after that, how _could_ he be okay? She wasn't even sure that _she_ was okay.

"Yeah," he said, a sad smile on his face as he nodded.

Jane somehow knew from looking at him that, although he'd been taken by surprise by the box, and especially by the final slip of paper inside it, he really was okay. This was confirmed when he let go of her and turned back to carefully gather the slips of paper, turning the pile back over and setting them back inside the box the way he'd found them, replacing the lid and putting it inside her box of books.

"I'll keep that," he said, "but I think we can share the box to put stuff in."

Nodding, Jane smiled at him. "We can share whatever you want," she told him, only realizing afterwards that it had sounded a little cheesier out loud than it had in her head. Laughing at herself quietly, she was rewarded with a genuine smile from him, and then a soft kiss on her temple.

Turning back to the things that might or might not be going in their box, he looked around. He'd already taken all the books from his bookshelf, and now there were only a few other miscellaneous things still there, things that didn't hold any particular memories for him. Looking around the room, he didn't see anything else he had any interest in saving.

"I think we're done here," he told her. Jane looked around at the other things that were still around the room.

"Nothing else?" she asked.

"No," he replied simply. Jane nodded, pulling away from him slowly and walking over to their bags. She picked up her own, hoisting it onto her shoulder, and then started picking up his, as well.

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" he asked her, leaving the box on the desk and walking over to her.

"Picking up the bags?" she asked, realizing that he was about to take at least one of them from her, possibly both. "I thought you were taking the box."

He just shook his head at her, holding out his hand and waiting. Seeing that he wasn't going to back down, she huffed in pretend exasperation and handed him the strap of his bag.

"You don't have to take all the heavy stuff yourself, you know," he tried to reason with her. "We still have to get the bedding, too."

"Right," she said, chuckling as she leaned down to pick up the large bundle of blankets wrapped inside the sleeping bag that had gotten so much use over the past few days. Kurt put the strap of his bag on his shoulder and then picked up the box under one arm. Jane was the first one out into the hallway, where she turned and waited for him.

He stood and looked around the room slowly. It felt surreal to be standing there after so long, and it felt even more surreal to think that he would never be there again. It wasn't that he would miss it. He hadn't missed it at all in the last twenty-five years, and he was sure he wasn't going to miss it now. He'd been away from that room, that life, for longer than he had actually lived there. Still, it felt strange to think that it was the last time, and that after that moment, it would only be a memory. He realized that he was glad that Jane had been there to see it on this last ever visit, that he was glad he could share with her a little bit of his past, even if it wasn't a happy one, and the thought made him smile.

Finally stepping out into the hall, they filed down the stairs quietly, stopping at the bottom of the bottom to put down their things so that they could put on their jackets and boots. The rest of their cold weather gear was packed in their extra bag.

Sarah came out into the hall as they were putting their jackets on, watching them with a sad smile. "We're just going to put these things in the car, and we'll be back in in a second," Kurt told her. His sister nodded, looking at the box beside him.

"I see you found a few things," she said, nodding toward the box of books. Kurt just nodded without a word, shrugging. "Oh," Sarah said, "Do you want the games? There's only a few… I think the only ones in your apartment were ours," she said apologetically. "I promise we'll play them with you when we come to visit…" She grinned up at him, and he just shook his head at her.

"Sure, why not?" he asked with a shrug. Sarah's eyes shone happily, glad that she could give her brother another small piece of their family history, even if it was something as inconsequential as board games.

"Great!" Sarah exclaimed. "I'll get them." Jane looked at Kurt and smiled. It seemed to be important to Sarah that he took the games, so she was glad that he'd agreed.

Sarah was back in less than a minute, with the games in another box. "Here you go," she smiled at him, setting it down.

"Oh, Sarah, some of this winter stuff is yours," Jane said, suddenly remembering. "One of the jackets, or both of them, I think…" Jane started rummaging through the things they'd brought, trying to remember what Kurt had told her before they'd left his apartment. It was hard to remember now… it felt like so long ago.

"Keep it, Jane," Sarah said. "I have plenty of winter stuff. More than I need, obviously," she grinned.

"Are you sure?" Jane asked, surprised at the casual way Sarah had just declared so many things to be hers. "It's a whole bunch of stuff…"

"Like I said, I had too much," Sarah told her, "And if I haven't missed it yet, I'm not going to. I'm glad to give it to someone who can _use_ it."

"Wow, thanks," Jane said in surprise.

Sarah shook her head. "It's my pleasure," she told her with a genuine smile. Jane pulled on the jacket that now belonged to her, looking down at it as if it was the first time she'd seen it. Kurt chuckled as he watched her, then smiled at his sister.

"Let's get some stuff to the car," he told her. As much as he wasn't looking forward to the drive, he knew that if he didn't move them along, it would be late before they got anywhere. And ultimately, he _was_ looking forward to being home.

His car was now in the driveway, and they took two short trips outside to load everything into the car. All too soon, it was time to say goodbye.

Sarah had called Sawyer to the front door, and while he begged Kurt to come out and visit them in Portland, Jane and Sarah hugged goodbye. "Sarah, _thank you_ ," Jane said quietly, adding "I mean it… I really can't thank you enough for this weekend. I may have helped Kurt, but he helped me just as much."

"My one regret about moving out west," Sarah said, holding onto Jane and speaking quietly, near her ear so that the boys didn't hear her, "is that I'm not there to look after Kurt." After a short pause, she whispered, "Take care of him for me, til the next time I see you guys… okay?" She stepped back and looked at Jane, her eyes watering slightly.

Jane was taken aback by the emotion in Sarah's words and in her eyes, and in the fact that she would ask something like that of her. _Her,_ a woman who Sarah had admitted that she'd been so angry with for how she had hurt Kurt not so very long ago. Sarah may not have known the whole story, but she knew enough for Jane to be both surprised and honored that she would make such a request of her. But Sarah's smile was genuine, and Jane didn't doubt that her words were, as well.

"Of course," Jane whispered, overwhelmed. "As much as he'll _let_ me, anyway."

Sarah laughed then, her emotional state turning her burst of laughter into more of a choked sob. "Thank you, Jane," Sarah said softly.

Sawyer and Kurt had now realized that they had missed something in the exchange between the two women, and they were staring at them curiously.

Sarah looked over at her brother, dabbing her fingers below her eyes to try to dry a stray tear or two. Before she could move to hug him, she exclaimed, "Oh, Kurt! I almost forgot… Stay right there." She walked quickly back into the dining room, returning almost immediately with a bouquet of pink roses wrapped in paper, and held it out to him.

He looked surprised, shaking his head at her. "Sarah…" he whispered, and now it was _his_ turn to suddenly be overcome by emotion. Kurt walked slowly forward, took the flowers from his sister, and then wrapped her in a tight hug. Jane had been saying goodbye to Sawyer, who had just sweetly asked Jane to try to convince Kurt to come out and visit them at their new house, adding that she was welcome to come, too, when suddenly both of them looked up to see what was happening between the Weller siblings. This time, it was Sawyer and Jane who had missed something.

Just then, Kurt was holding onto his sister tighter than either Jane or Sawyer had ever seen the two siblings hug before – even Sawyer, in his ten years of knowing them. Their behavior confused Sawyer, but didn't really think much of it. Jane, on the other hand, saw the flowers, and wondered if they were for what she thought they were for.

"How did you know that was my plan?" Kurt whispered to Sarah.

"Because I know you," she said fondly. "And I knew that you wouldn't come all the way out here and miss a chance, especially with Jane here... It will mean a lot to her, too, you know…"

Kurt nodded at his sister, but said something. He _did_ know that, actually.

"I know you'll come back," Sarah continued quietly, "but who knows when you'll have time again. And you were sort of snowed in here the last couple days, so…" Sarah shrugged. "I just knew."

"And… the pink?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Sarah smiled sadly then, taking a deep breath. "Because you're not the only one who remembers her, you know."

Kurt smiled sadly, nodding his head. "I know," he whispered. "Thanks, Sarah."

"Come out and see us, if you can," she said, before quickly adding, "I know, I know, work… We'll figure it out, and we'll see you soon though, okay? One way or the other." Sarah was glad that she was facing away from Jane and Sawyer just then, though she knew that the stray tears on her cheeks would be obvious as soon as she stood back.

Kurt nodded, pulling her tighter to him one more time before letting go and stepping back, smiling at her, both of their eyes now more than slightly moist. He clutched the flowers in one arm as if they were something precious to him, and turned to Jane. "You ready?" he asked her with a smile.

Jane had a guess about what the flowers were for, and she was curious to see if she'd read the situation right. Either way, she figured that she'd find out once they got in the car. Smiling at him fondly, she nodded. "If you are," she said, echoing her earlier words.

"Bye you guys," Sarah said, now looking as though she was going to cry for real. "Drive safely. And for goodness sake, try to get home without having to camp on the side of the road."

Jane shivered involuntarily at the thought. As much as that experience hadn't been completely terrible, it _had_ been frightening, and she hoped not to repeat it.

Well, parts of it maybe, but not the entire thing…

"Thanks the plan," Kurt said with a grin.

"Mom," Sawyer said, walking over to nudge Sarah with his elbow, "did you remember to give them the food?"

"What? Oh, no I didn't!" Sarah replied.

"I'll get it!" Sawyer yelled excitedly, dashing back to the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a plastic shopping bag that appeared to be almost filled to capacity.

"Some food for the road," Sarah said with a smile, looking like she was going to get emotional all over again. "Thanks for remembering that, sweetie," she told Sawyer, who was beaming proudly.

Jane shook her head in awe as Kurt took the bag from his nephew. "Thank you," she said. "Looks like there's enough for a few days here."

"Well, after your trip out here, I guess you can't be too careful…" Sarah replied, only partially kidding. "There's not really much between here and home for you guys, so… better safe than sorry. And we'll just be giving all our leftovers to the neighbor tomorrow, anyway."

"Thanks, _again_ ," Kurt told his sister. "What would I do without you?"

Sarah just shrugged happily. "Luckily for you, you don't have that problem," she said. "Now, get out of here, you guys. And text me when you get back, _please_?"

"Yes, mom," Kurt replied dramatically, but smiled. His hands were now full, so Jane opened the door, the cold air immediately biting against her cheeks as she stood and held it open for Kurt, looking back at the two Wellers that they were leaving behind. Jane didn't know what it felt like to have family of her own to say goodbye to – not really, despite the fact that she had said goodbye to Shepherd and Roman more than a few times that she could remember – but saying goodbye to Sarah and Sawyer just then, she imagined that that was what it was supposed to feel like.

Outside, she took the bag of food from Kurt and climbed into the passenger seat. He'd already started the car when they'd come outside with their bags, so it was already comfortably warm inside. She reached back and set the bag of food behind Kurt's seat, within easy reach, then buckled her seat belt, turning to look at Kurt.

He was sitting and watching her get settled, a smile on his face. When she was finally still and turned to look at him, he carefully handed her the flowers. After a second's hesitation, he said, "I guess you've probably figured out what they're for…" She nodded, smiling sadly. "The next ones will be for you, I promise," he told her.

For a second, she didn't know what to say. She still wasn't used to… whatever it was they were. "It's fine, Kurt," she replied, flustered. "You don't have to…" She held Taylor's flowers carefully against her, hoping that he didn't think she was upset that they weren't for her. "That kind of thing doesn't matter to me," she added quietly. "Not after what we've been through."

The look in his eyes was the most sincere she'd ever seen. "I know that, Jane. And like I said before," he said without a second thought, "I know I don't have to. I _want_ to. I just… haven't gotten a chance yet… Clearfield's not exactly conducive to that type of surprise. Especially during a blizzard."

She smiled back at him, in awe yet again over _this_ , whatever it was. "It's only been… four days, not even," she told him, feeling a little self-conscious both because she knew this off the top of her head, and because she felt like things had changed so very dramatically in four days. It almost didn't seem possible.

"My favorite four days," he said with a grin, glancing at her before starting to back out of the driveway.

"Mine, too," she replied, feeling herself blush slightly as she smiled happily.

On the road a minute later, Kurt told her, "We don't have far to go, it's just a few minutes from here." Jane just nodded, not sure what to say.

Watching the scenery around the car, she was impressed to see that while everything else was still snow covered, the roads had been cleared. Looking over when she heard Kurt shift, she saw him reaching his hand towards her, silently asking to hold hers. Since his eyes were on the road, she reached out her hand to meet his halfway, turning towards him in her chair and leaning her cheek against her seat so that she could look at him. Their hands came to rest midway between them, on the center console, both of them feeling a rush just from such a simple form of contact, and she enjoyed the chance to watch him, as she had done so many times that weekend.

They didn't speak for the rest of the short ride to what looked like a barely cleared dirt road that led nowhere, but they didn't need to. So many things had been said between them over the past few days, and at that moment, no additional words were necessary. When he pulled the car to a stop, letting go of her hand for just long enough to shift the car into Park before recapturing it again, they just sat for a minute, not moving. When they both squeezed the other's hand almost simultaneously, they couldn't help but look up and smile.

They were there together, after all, and for a few minutes they sat and thought about how much that meant. Once again, they agreed without having to say a word.

It didn't just mean a lot. It meant _everything._


	36. That Sounds Like A Challenge

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _He was right when he said that this place was peaceful_ , she thought, looking at the snow covered landscape outside the car. There wasn't a manmade structure in sight, and she imagined that in warmer weather, the place was beautiful in a whole other way. When she looked at him beside her, it seemed like he was somewhere else, probably remembering the previous time he'd been there… Or had there been more than once when he'd been here since he'd buried her a few months before? Of course, she didn't know that much about his life since she'd come back to the FBI, but given the length of the drive and the fact that Kurt was rarely ever _not_ working, it seemed unlikely that he'd been there too many times. Either way, it didn't really matter, she supposed.

This time, Jane spoke first. "Do you want to…?" she began, looking at him with concern. Yes, he'd been more at peace since he'd had the chance to "talk" to Taylor, but this still wouldn't be easy for him.

"Yeah," he whispered, not moving.

"Do you want me to wait here? I don't mind," she assured him. She didn't know how far of a walk it was going to be, and she preferred _not_ to stay there alone, but if that was what he wanted, she would do it, no questions asked.

"Absolutely not," he replied, looking up at her in surprise. "Actually, it's… a _relief_ that I don't have to be here alone. And honestly, I can't think of anyone else that I'd rather have here with me."

His words tugged at her heart in a way that she hadn't expected. There was nothing she could do to fix this for him, of course, but if it helped him that she was there, then all the better. Being there was one thing she _could_ do… but only if he was sure that that was what he wanted.

The pained look on his face, which he tried to force into something that resembled a smile, matched the look on her face as well. He squeezed her hand again and then, looking down towards her feet, his face clouded over, as if something had just occurred to him.

"Maybe you _should_ stay here," he reconsidered slowly. "The snow here's going to be pretty deep, and your boots… well, we've already proven a few times that they're not exactly meant for deep snow."

Jane shook her head stubbornly. "No," she argued immediately. "If you want me there, I'm going with you. I'll be _fine_. It's not as though you were planning to stay for a long time, right? In this weather, and with the drive ahead of us?"

He shook his head slowly. Not having thought about it in more detail than going to Taylor's grave, he supposed that she was right about that much… Still, he didn't like her knowingly putting herself at risk of frostbite like that, since they already knew her boots would end up filled with snow.

"I have spare socks that I can change into when we get back. And we have heat in the car, and a full tank of gas, and there's no blizzard happening… It'll be fine," she insisted.

"Frostbite is nothing to play around with," he contended. The thought of knowingly putting her in danger when there was a choice to do otherwise made him very uncomfortable. This wasn't life or death. He _wanted_ her to be there with him, but if he asked this of her, that was just him being selfish. He _could_ do it alone… he just didn't want to.

"Or, you know, I can just hop on your back and you can carry me up the hill…" she told him, rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of the idea.

Kurt, however, stopped and looked up at her. It sounded crazy, sure, but sounding crazy had never been a reason to discount an idea in the past, if it was doable and accomplished their goal in a way that involved no more than an acceptable risk.

She saw the look on his face, and her mouth opened in surprise. "I was _kidding_ , Kurt… Hey… You're not going to carry me on your back up the hill, in the snow…"

"Why? You don't think I can?" he asked, smiling ever so slightly. "That sounds like a challenge."

"No, I…" Realizing that she had just convinced him to go through with her crazy suggestion, which hadn't actually been a serious suggestion at all, she sighed in defeat. He was _impossible._

"I'm not talking you out of it, am I? No matter what I say?" she asked, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"Nope," he said, a hint of a grin on his face.

"You know this is _crazy_ , right?" she asked him in one last attempt to change his mind.

"Yep," he replied, not bothered in the least. "That's never stopped us before." Her head bobbed from side to side, thinking back on various examples of exactly that. He had a point.

"Here, put on the rest of your gear," he reminded her, pulling their hats, scarves and gloves out of the bag he'd placed on the back seat and handing her the a set. "No more going out in the snow half dressed." Their eyes met, and for a few seconds they both flashed back to Jane, barely dressed for cool weather, much less the blizzard in which he'd found her in his backyard. She looked down, embarrassed, and he squeezed her hand. "Come on, just put it on, Jane," he coaxed her, letting go of her hand so he could do the same.

Laying the bright pink flowers, that she had been holding against her, carefully in her lap, she slowly put on the hat, scarf and gloves, the memory of that night, of standing numbly in the cold where Kurt had found her, fading only gradually from before her eyes.

When he'd assured that she had, he took the key out of the ignition and opened his door, the cold wind immediately making both of them shiver. "Stay right there for a second," he said, stepping out into the snow that was not as deep as he'd expected. Then again, they were just barely off the road, and this section had probably been driven on, packing the snow down, at some point before being snowed on again. He had no allusions about being so lucky about the rest of the short walk up the hill, and he stuck to his plan.

Once on the passenger side of the car, he opened Jane's door for her and couldn't help but smile when she looked up at him, getting out and looking down at the snow around their feet in surprise. "It's not that deep," she said. "I'll be fine in this."

"It's going to be deeper on the hill, away from the road," he maintained. "And it will be a lot harder to get you up on my back over there… here we have the advantage of the car."

She'd thought he might change his mind, but no, he was sticking to the plan to carry her on his back. _This is just… weird_ , she thought.

"Step up on there," he said, pointing to the bottom of the door frame, "It'll give you a little advantage." She did as she was told, and suddenly she was standing in front of him, her face slightly above his.

"So this is what it's like to be taller than you," she said in amusement, leaning down towards him and stopping when their faces were an inch or so apart. Smiling at her, he leaned forward to give her a quick kiss on the lips, then leaned back and looked at her thoughtfully.

"It's your first piggy back ride, isn't it?" he asked. After all, it wasn't exactly something you ever did as an adult.

"That's what it's called? Why, yes it is," she replied with a smile. "So… what do I…?" She honestly didn't have a clue how they were going to do this.

"I turn around, and then you just sort of climb onto my back," he told her. Seeing her look at him skeptically, he just smiled. "You'll see," he told her, turning around and taking a step back, so that he was standing almost right up against her.

"So now…?" she asked certainly, putting her hand on his shoulders.

Bending his knees to bring himself even lower, he said, "Hold on around my shoulders, and just pull your legs up on either side of my back. Kids do this all the time, I swear. It's perfectly fine."

 _It's probably a_ _ **little**_ _different when kids do it,_ she thought, biting her lip and slowly trying to follow the steps he'd just given her, feeling extremely self-conscious.

She wound her arms around the front of his neck, leaning forward against him and feeling herself suddenly up in the air, bending her knees so that she could push them against his sides as he lifted her up. It was a strange sensation, that much was for sure, but she quickly realized that the best thing about this arrangement was that she was able to – no, that she _had_ to – hold onto him as tightly as possible.

 _I could get used to this, as weird as it is,_ she thought. He turned around to pick up the flowers from the dashboard, where she'd set them carefully, moving slowly not because she was heavy, but because he didn't want her head to accidentally bump against anything. After closing the car door, ensuring that it was locked, he turned his face to hers, which was just over his shoulder, their cold cheeks brushing together ever so slightly.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asked in return. "I'm not the one carrying a person on my _back_."

He chuckled at her, and the fact that she found it to be such a big deal. "I'm fine," he replied. "You're suspiciously light. Obviously, I need to work on getting you to eat more." Her eating habits were a sensitive subject, though with him it was less so than with anyone else. Still, the mention of them brought her back to the frustration of the lasting effects of her CIA imprisonment. She knew that he was only expressing concern for her well-being, and she loved him for it, even more so when he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

"Can you hold onto these, and not fall?" he asked, holding up the flowers as high as he was able. It would be better if he could hold onto her legs behind her knees, just in case.

"I think so…" she replied. Reaching down, she took them from him carefully, returning her arms to the circle she had made around his neck. It wasn't strictly necessary, but it was a nice excuse to hold on tightly to him.

"Okay, let's give this a try," he said, turning to walk slowly up the hill that sloped up gently in front of them. Neither of them spoke as they made their way through snow that, as Kurt had said it would be, was far deeper than it had been where they'd parked. It was definitely deeper than her boots, and he was glad that he'd insisted on giving her a piggy back ride.

It only took a few minutes before they were there, just over the crest of the hill and overlooking a valley. She could see a modest headstone, half buried in the snow, only the name 'Taylor Shaw' visible. He came to a stop just in front of it, and then, standing as carefully as he could, he braced himself with his left foot while using his right to push snow out of the way to create a small area in which he could put Jane down and not have her boots immediately be deep in the snow.

Once he was satisfied with the small circle he'd made, he turned and carefully lowered her into it, then using his right foot to expand the cleared area several feet to the left, across the space in front of the headstone. Bending down, she watched as he brushed the snow carefully from in front of the marker, so that more text was visible – the dates of her birth and death. Well, technically the second date was the day she'd disappeared. Since he couldn't know exactly when she'd died, Kurt had had the stone made using the date that he had lost her.

Looking down at it, the feeling of loss hit him all over again, and he had to take a slow, deep breath to remain composed. Turning slightly to Jane, he saw the flash of pink as she held the bouquet of flowers, which Sarah had so thoughtfully bought for the occasion, out to him. He took them, unwrapping the paper from around the bunch but leaving the thick, white ribbon that was wrapped around them inside it. He was so absorbed in where he was, he barely even noticed when Jane reached out and took the paper from him. Kneeling down slowly, he felt the tears in his eyes quickly appearing out of nowhere, as he was overwhelmed once again by a wave of grief.

He laid the flowers down in front of the headstone, the pink petals a striking contrast against both the white of the snow and the gray of the marble. It seemed fitting that the flowers seemed to inject life into such a somber landscape – not unlike how Taylor had injected light and happiness into his world for those few years that she had been there.

Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts, which were swirling faster and faster, threatening to overtake him, he felt Jane's hand on his right shoulder, bringing him back to the present time. Glancing up over his shoulder to where she stood, slightly behind him on his right, he saw the sad smile on her face, and he reached his left hand across his chest, bringing it to rest on top of hers. Looking back down at Taylor's name, etched in stone for eternity, he felt a hollow ache in his chest.

And then, as if she was standing somewhere nearby, he heard the words in his head once again.

 _I don't want you to remember me and be sad. Not anymore._

 _You've already put yourself through so much… And you never deserved any of it. But it's going to be okay…_

 _You_ _ **did not**_ _fail me. You need to stop telling yourself that…_

 _It's time to let it all go._

His head dropped to his chest, and what little composure he'd had left was suddenly gone. Though he'd told himself he was ready to be there, he realized only too late that it would have been impossible to be truly ready. He'd been there when they'd buried her, a few months ago, with Sarah, but it hadn't been the same. He'd been in shock, he'd been angry… he hadn't been ready to feel it. But now, and especially after the past few days, he felt it – _all of it_.

All of a sudden he found himself on his knees in the snow, doubled over, feeling the pain in his chest overwhelming him. He gasped for breath, choked sobs escaping him unevenly and his tears only just moving quickly enough down his cheeks to avoid freezing on his skin.

Jane watched in dismay, feeling completely helpless. It was all understandable, and yet, it was so hard to watch this man who was usually the pillar of strength, who she cared so much about, in so much pain. She crouched down beside him, putting her left hand gently on his right shoulder and squeezing just hard enough that he knew that she was there.

He didn't respond, but she remained there, moving her hand across his shoulders, back and forth. After a few minutes he seemed to catch his breath, quieting down but remaining on the ground. "Kurt," she whispered. There was still no response. She knew that he was in there somewhere, and that his reaction was understandable, but she was still worried.

Keeping her hand on his shoulder, she looked up at the headstone in front of her. Her feelings were complicated, of course. Once again, she wished that she could have gone back in time and stopped Bill Weller, all the while knowing very well that if she could have, she wouldn't be there. It was a war in her head that there was simply no winning. The idea that she couldn't go back and undo it made her angry, and yet the thought of what her own reality would have been if she could have stopped him from killing Taylor made her sad for herself.

Feeling him shift beside her, she looked up at him. His eyes were rimmed with red and his face was drawn. Basically, he looked every bit as miserable as he probably felt.

"You're going to freeze," she told him softly, looking down at his knees, which had been digging into the snow at their feet for more than a few minutes now.

Honestly, he hadn't noticed the cold, but looking down at his knees now, he suddenly realized just how cold his legs were from the knees down. Jane's hand left his shoulder, her hand tracing down his right arm softly until it reached his right hand. She wasn't strong enough to pull him up if he didn't want to stand, of course, but when she stood up, tugging at his hand to urge him upward, she felt him shift reluctantly, slowly pulling himself to his feet. As soon as he did, she threaded her arm around his waist, holding on tight, and looking up at him with concern.

There was nothing she could do, and she knew it. Despite what he had said before about wanting her to be there, she felt guilty just for being there – after all, she was there because Taylor wasn't.

 _It's not that simple and you know it,_ she reminded herself. _Besides, if you weren't here, it wouldn't mean that Taylor would be, it would just mean that Kurt was here alone. Taylor did not die because of you._ Looking up at him, she felt a protective instinct kick in. She couldn't imagine letting him be there alone… He'd already been through so much, and all she wanted was to somehow make it better. She just wished that she knew what to say, what to do.

Kurt stared down at the pink flowers for what felt like a long time, just focusing on the sharp contrast between the pink of the petals and the white of the snow. He felt Jane's arm around him, but he couldn't bring himself to react. It was all he could do to keep himself upright just then. Slowly, however, the crushing feeling in his chest began to subside and he managed to lift his arm up around Jane's shoulders, leaning against her with more force than he usually would have.

Jane shifted, feeling his arm around her shoulders as he leaned against her. It was unusual, because it seemed to her like _he_ was the one who was usually holding _her_ up, and it felt good that she could return the favor this time. Her head dropped against his shoulder, and seconds later, his head fell slowly until it rested against hers.

They stood there long enough that she felt him begin to shiver, and she hoped that she could convince him that it was time to go.

"Kurt, you're freezing," she whispered, feeling him nod his head against hers, but otherwise not moving. "Are you ready to go?" she asked hesitantly. "I don't want to rush you, but…"

He looked down at her, smiling tiredly. "I know," he whispered, turning his head to lean his face into her hair, holding his face there for a few seconds before leaning back. "I'm ready," he told her quietly.

She started to take a step, but he caught her arm before she had a chance. "Hey, what are you doing?" he asked her in surprise.

"Going back to the car?" Jane replied uncertainly. "You just said you were ready to go."

"Jane, the snow's really deep here, remember?" He asked her seriously.

It suddenly dawned on her what he was talking about, and she shook her head. "Kurt, you're _exhausted_. I can walk, it's fine—"

"Nope, not happening. You can climb on my back, or I'll just carry you in front of me, like I did when I found you out in my backyard." They both stood and stared at each other for a few seconds, arms crossed over their respective chests, neither willing to relent.

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was _ridiculous_. He'd just had an emotional breakdown, and now he wanted to _carry_ her down the hill through the snow? As much as she wanted to just go along with him because she knew how emotionally worn out he was, she couldn't help but think that he wasn't thinking clearly. Looking at him with a glare that was harder than she'd intended, she didn't even realize she was shaking her head. To her surprise, suddenly he was smiling at her.

He knew she didn't understand why he was smiling at her, and with such intensity – he watched her face change slowly from a scowl to confusion.

"What?" she barked finally, unable to stop herself from asking. "Why are you _smiling_ at me? I'm, like, the worst person in the world. You just broke down at Taylor's grave and now I'm not only giving you a hard time, I'm actually _angry_ at you."

Shaking his head, he simply couldn't stop smiling at her. "You remind me of her," he said softly. "So stubborn, so strong… and I know you're only mad because of how much you care, by the way."

She'd felt badly about the way she was acting, and now she felt worse. Her head dropped so that she was staring at the snow by her feet, and her face tightened. _Why are you being so nice to me when I'm being so horrible to you?_ she wanted to scream.

"Come on," he said simply, "humor me. _Please_? Besides, you know that saving people is kind of my thing. I can't help it… " Then, realizing who he was talking to, he quickly added, "I know you don't _need_ saving. You can do it all on your own. But if you don't have to, then… _Why?_ "

When she finally looked up, slowly, he winked at her, and a quick laugh slipped out of her against her will. Her face clouded back over in mock annoyance, but she really couldn't help herself. She simply couldn't be mad at him for this.

"Because you don't have to, you know," he continued. "I like to help you just as much as you like to help me," he finished quietly, turning to face her and putting his hands on her shoulders. Finally, she looked up at him again.

"Okay, fine," she sighed. "Just… one second." Kurt nodded and then watched as Jane turned and crouched down in front of the gravestone, closing her eyes.

 _Taylor, I'm sorry,_ she thought, trying to unravel all of the things she wanted to say. _I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry that I… tried to take advantage of Kurt's memory of you… well, I mean, it wasn't me, but… I apologize on behalf of Remi, even though_ _ **she**_ _wouldn't be sorry. If it's any consolation, your memory made Kurt into a wonderful man, and I promise to look out for him. I guess that's all I can do. We'll come back here again, that much I'm sure of._

Unable to think of anything else, she pushed herself back up and stood beside Kurt, who was now facing Taylor's gravestone once again, staring at the pink flowers. His right hand found her left without taking his eyes off of Taylor's name, and he squeezed it. Just the fact that she felt like she had something to say to Taylor, who she'd never met, said a lot about her, and it only made him love her more.

Still holding onto Jane's hand, he took a step forward with his left foot and placed his left hand on top of the smooth stone, closing his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he saw flashes of Taylor, as he had back at the house, appearing and disappearing in milliseconds until finally, he saw her imagine floating before his eyes, looking like she had in that last vision, or whatever it had been, when he'd talked to her.

"You're going to be okay, Kurt," she told him, and he couldn't help but smile. He'd been saying that to Jane for as long as he'd known her, after all.

Opening his eyes again and stepping back, he turned back to Jane. "So which one's it going to be?" he asked her.

Rolling her eyes at him, she just shrugged. "Alright then, I'm choosing," he said, and without any further hesitation, he scooped her up in one fluid motion, once again with one arm under her knees and one arm around her back. When she found herself in his arms so quickly, all she could do was look at him in surprise.

"Pretty smooth, huh?" he asked, grinning at her.

"I'll say," she replied, leaning her head against his chest. She had to admit, she did not hate being this close to him.

With that, he started walking slowly back towards the car, backtracking through the single trail of footprints that he had left on the way there. It was slow going once again, but they made it without mishap. He balanced against the car, managing not to drop her as he got the keys out of her pocket, then unlocked the doors and opened hers. Only then did he set her down, slowly, and if she didn't know better, she would have said he did so reluctantly. Suddenly, standing on the ground, even directly in front of him, she felt very far away from him.

"Thanks," she said simply, smiling as she climbed back into the car, and he walked back around to the driver's side. In seconds he had the car started and the heat going again. It was only then that he realized for the second time how cold he was – the legs of his jeans were still wet from the snow, and they'd almost frozen in the cold air.

"You're shivering," she said with concern, but he shook his head dismissively.

"I'm fine," he replied, which only earned him a skeptical look from her. "No, really. The heat's on, my pants will dry, and we're on our way home. It's _fine_." Looking up at the sky, he said, "See? No clouds. Mother Nature and I have an agreement about today. She said we'd had enough bad weather on this trip, and that we were going to have smooth sailing on the way back."

"You say bad weather as if it was a _bad_ thing," Jane said innocently, then watched as a smile crept slowly across his face.

"Oh, it definitely wasn't _all_ bad," he replied with a grin, shifting into Reverse and turning around so they could get back on the road.

"Thank you for letting me do this with you," Jane said hesitantly, looking back out in the direction of Taylor's grave. She couldn't help but think back to the day that he'd told her. His voice had been full of bitterness, even hatred, directed at her.

" _I exhumed her body in secret and buried her. Somewhere peaceful. My team knows. Sarah knows. Taylor's family is gone now. And so is her killer. So I don't see what good the truth will do anyone else."_

She still remembered how deeply the words had cut through her – _my team knows._ She remembered how much it had hurt to know that she wasn't part of his team. As much as it had hurt that day, it felt equally strong now, but in a good way, somehow... even though that didn't really make sense.

Still, as she sat and remembered his face when he'd told her about burying Taylor, she had to look over at him to reassure herself that he didn't still have that look on his face, the one that he'd had that day. It had been the look that had held her back from him with only his eyes, that had told her just how much he didn't trust her, how much she'd hurt him.

When he looked back at her now, however, there was only kindness, and she relaxed against her chair.

"Thank _you_ for being here with me," he told her sincerely. It was hard to imagine how it would have felt if he'd been there alone… at the gravesite, or that whole weekend, really. Luckily, he didn't have to know for sure.

Reaching up to play with the radio in an attempt to find _something_ to listen to – they were pretty far out, after all – she settled on a mid-tempo song that, not surprisingly, she didn't recognize, turning the volume down slightly, so that it was just background noise. She wanted to ask him if he was still planning to go into the office when they got back into the city – which, according to her calculations, was going to be between 4:00 and 5:00 pm – and yet she simultaneously didn't want to ask him, for several reasons.

First, she didn't want the trip to end, and talking about work would be admitting that it was really and truly over. Secondly, she had a feeling that his answer was yes, he was going into the office, and she just didn't want to hear him say it. Most people would assume that, since it was the end of the day, that going into work wasn't worth it. Kurt, of course, would have no such thought. After taking several days off, she wondered if he'd go in and work all night.

And so she sat quietly and stared out the window. She wanted to talk to him, but she couldn't think of anything to talk about besides the exact subject she was trying to avoid.

Jane was quiet, he'd noticed, and he decided that she was probably nervous about how things would go back at home, after everything that had happened between them in the past four days. He was just as quiet, the events of that weekend swirling together in his head.

They were about halfway home when Jane reached back behind his seat and pulled out the bag of food that Sarah had packed for them. The first thing Jane pulled out were some rather gourmet looking sandwiches – ham and cheese with mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato and avocado on thick, soft wheat rolls. "Wow," Kurt said in wonder after finishing the first bite, "Once again, I never thought I'd see the day when I was impressed with Sarah's culinary skills."

"It's probably best that she's not here to hear you say that," Jane remarked with a smile. She didn't disagree however.

After they ate, they fell back into silence – not an awkward one, but the silence of two people who each had a lot on their minds. The radio played softly in the background, as Jane stared out the window and tried to will herself not to think. It was exhausting, and she wished she could just sleep the rest of the way home. While she had fallen asleep in Kurt's car on several other occasions in the time she'd known him, this time sleep refused to come.

He'd glanced over at her and seen her staring out the window more times than he could count, so when they were about an hour from home – well, from Manhattan, anyway – and he heard her shift in her chair, he felt an unexpected sigh of relief escape him when he saw that she had turned toward him. Looking back at the road, he had the sensation that she was continuing to watch him, and when he glanced back again and saw that her eyes still on him, he couldn't help but smile at her.

"You okay?" he asked her. It was the first thing either of them had said in what felt like a long time. Even when they'd passed the stretch of highway where they'd been stranded a few days before, Kurt had decided not to point it out.

Nodding slowly, as if she was still trying to decide, she finally said, simply, "Yeah." Then a second later, she looked at him and asked, "You?"

The expression on his face wasn't quite a smile, but it wasn't a frown, either. Like her, he seemed to think about it before answering, taking a few seconds before nodding. "Yeah. Contrary to what it might have seemed like this morning…" He had finally thought back to what had happened by Taylor's grave, and even though Jane had been the only other person there, he felt self-conscious about having broken down.

She reached across the console then, her hand landing on the arm of his jacket just above his elbow, squeezing slightly. After a moment's silence, she said, "The only thing it seemed like was that she was important to you." Grateful for the excuse to stare straight ahead, he kept his eyes on the road, nodding slightly, feeling the tension in his face increase as he struggled to keep his composure.

Even though he knew that she didn't think any less of him, her words were comforting nonetheless. His right hand slid off of the steering wheel, down toward the console between them, and her hand immediately moved in response, sliding down his arm until it reached his hand. Their fingers interlocked, and in response, he felt like he could breathe a little easier. However it worked, this effect she had on him was like her superpower.

Their hands rested on the console between them, and Jane couldn't help but feel like he was frustratingly far away, and that the ride had taken far more than the just over three and a half hours that they'd driven so far. Of course, that could have had something to do with the fact that, besides the hours when Kurt had stayed up and played video games with Sawyer, she hadn't spent nearly this much time this far away from him since they'd arrived in Clearfield on Saturday evening.

 _Seventy-two hours ago._ That was all it had been.

When she felt him squeeze her hand, she realized that she'd been lost in her thoughts once again, even though she was turned toward him in her seat.

"Do you want me to drop you off at your place?" he asked hesitantly. Not because he wanted to, but… well, she lived there, and it seemed like the logical place for her to go…

"Are you going to the office?" she asked, avoiding the question.

Nodding, he glanced at her and replied, "Yeah, at least for a little while. See what's come up over the weekend, if anything." Her head bobbed slightly in acknowledgement, and he noticed that she'd avoided his question. "Does that mean you'd rather go to the office with me? Because I'm not sure how much there is to do there, or how long I'll be…"

Looking in his direction, but not at him, she shrugged. "I know… and that's fine. I'm just… not ready to go back to my safe house." If she had her way, of course, she'd avoid it for as long as possible. It was going to be especially hard to readjust to being there after the weekend that she'd had.

She wasn't exactly saying what was on her mind, but to Kurt it was crystal clear. There were two things at work here. Not only was she worried about being back in New York and what that would mean for _them_ , but there was also the issue – he was fairly sure, anyway – of the deafening silence of her safe house.

"Hey, I'm not going to complain about having you around," he said with a grin, attempting levity. Glancing at him with a nervous smile, she felt relief at the thought that she had put off going "home" – not that that was a word she'd use for it – a little longer. After that they drove in comfortable silence, arriving at the office just when people who worked more conventional hours were getting ready to go home, just before 5:00pm.

Once he'd parked in the garage, they got out of the car and stretched, walking around from their respective sides and meeting in the middle, once again drawn towards each other as if by magnetic force. Before they could give it any thought, his arm was around her shoulders, and hers was around his lower back. Just like that, they made their way slowly to the elevator just inside the building. As soon as the metal doors closed in front of them, Kurt turned and put both of his arms around her, a gesture that she echoed, and for the thirty seconds for so that it took to get to their floor, they stood just like that, holding on to each other.

Just before the elevator dinged and the doors opened, he leaned back just enough to kiss her forehead, then stepped back the rest of the way.

No matter that he'd done it quite a few times already, the kiss he planted on her forehead made her stomach flip flop excitedly. It was one more reassurance that even though they were back home, nothing had changed.

In those final seconds of privacy, both of them dropped their arms reluctantly from around the other and, after one last glance into each other's eyes, they turned to face the elevator doors as they opened, wondering what level of chaos they would find.


	37. A Few More Minutes

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when they stepped out of the elevator, but he was glad to see that everything seemed calm in the bullpen – well, as calm as it ever was in the NYO. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening, anyway. They saw Zapata and Reade sitting at their workstations, talking, and Kurt headed in their direction. Jane hung back slightly, but followed his lead.

"Hey, look who's back…" Zapata said with a grin, drawing out her words in amusement. "Did you guys have a good weekend?" She raised her eyebrows curiously at them, as if she knew something that even _they_ didn't.

"Glad to see you're feeling more… uh, _yourself_ , Zapata," Kurt said, ignoring her question. Zapata realized that the last time she saw them, at the holiday party on Friday night, she'd been a little less sober than usual… and her grin faded slightly as an embarrassed grimace took its place.

Jane, however, answered the question for both of them as she came to stand beside Kurt hesitantly. "It was a nice weekend," she replied simply. She couldn't shake the feeling of awkwardness over the fact that it was now common knowledge that they'd spent the weekend together, with his family, but she did her best. They were adults, of course, and it wasn't as though they'd done anything wrong… it was just a little more personal information than either of them would have chosen to share, if they had the choice. "There was a _lot_ of snow out there," she added, her mouth curling into a smile. No mention of being stranded in a blizzard… Jane and Kurt were both relieved to be able to keep that detail to themselves.

Zapata nodded thoughtfully, watching the way the two of them interacted with great interest. It didn't escape her attention the way Weller's eyes had gone to Jane as soon as she'd started talking, and had stayed on her, though for just a second, even after she finished. She noticed the way he stood close to her. Though they were not touching, he was just inside her personal space. Neither of them was giving off tension, interestingly. No, it was something else.

"Yeah, we had a little bit of snow here," Zapata replied, her eyes still darting back between the two. She wasn't sure which of them she wanted to watch more just then.

Kurt could tell that Zapata was dying to know a lot more than just the fact that they'd gotten a lot of snow on their weekend away, but to her credit, she didn't ask any questions other than whether they'd had a good weekend. This didn't mean that she wouldn't, of course, but at least she was at least going to ease into them slowly. For now, he knew, she was merely making observations about the two of them. That was the problem with working for the FBI, which such observant agents – it could be hard to keep secrets from them.

"So, anything new that we should know about?" Kurt asked, his eyes darting between Zapata and Reade. The pair shrugged, shaking their heads noncommittally.

"I left that report you asked for on your desk," Reade replied. "We looked into a few things today, but nothing really panned out. It's been slow around here." Kurt nodded, looking back at Zapata, who shook her head.

"Nothing to report, like he said," she replied. "For once, we've had a few quiet days."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt shook his head. "Don't jinx us," he told her, shaking his head. Then, looking back at Jane, he said, "Maybe this _will_ be a short stop, after all…" She smiled slightly, nodding, and Zapata couldn't help but notice the first hint of tension on Jane's face. Focusing on her for a second, and the way she was reacting to Weller, she tried to figure out what it was that suddenly made her look stressed.

Looking at his watch, Kurt said, "Well, if nothing's going on, you guys may as well take off. It's about that time anyway." Both of them smiled with gratitude, happy to leave a few minutes early with their boss' blessing.

"Thanks, boss," Zapata grinned at him, wasting no time in standing up. Reade was only a few seconds behind her.

"See you tomorrow," Kurt told them as they headed for the elevator. He looked at Jane and smiled, then turned without a word to walk down the hall towards Patterson's lab. When she stood still, unsure whether she should follow him, he only got a few steps away before glancing back over his shoulder at her.

For half a second she wasn't sure if she should follow him, but the twinkle in his eyes seemed to tell her to do just that, so she caught up and fell into step beside him. As they walked down the hall, which was empty this late in the day the week after Christmas, his pace slowed until he had stopped, turning to look at her carefully.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, and wondering if he'd been able to see the flash of uncertainty that she'd felt when he'd said that it might be a short stop, she nodded. The fact that they might not be there long was supposed to be a _good_ thing, she knew, but she couldn't help the fact that it made her anxious… After all, she didn't know what came _after_ this.

 _Suck it up,_ she told herself. _The weekend was always going to end… either it's going to go back to the way it was, or it's not. Nothing you do right now is going to change it_.

And maybe that was what was stressing her out. The uncertainty and lack of control, two things of which there was an abundance in her life, and both of which she hated. After all, though the feeling had slowly decreased over time, there was always more of both of them in her life than in most people's.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Really, her stomach was more in knots than anything at the moment, but she knew that the correct response was 'yes,' so she nodded slightly. "Yeah, a little," she replied with a shrug.

He knew what that reply meant, but he let it go for the time being. "When we're done here, you want to go get something to eat?" he asked her.

The tension on her face lessened slightly, and she felt herself begin to relax. This readjustment of her expectations, and of letting herself trust him again, was going to be a process. She had known that before they'd gotten back, but now it was a reality.

Smiling with the relief of at least a small amount of certainty, she nodded. "Yeah," she replied quietly, and watched as he looked almost as relieved as she felt.

"Let's go check in with Patterson, and then I'll see if there's anything I need to see on my desk. After that, we can get out of here and find some food," he said. He stepped closer to her, but managed to keep his hands at his sides – though it wasn't easy. "Okay?"

This time, Jane just nodded, looking up at him hesitantly. It didn't make much sense, after everything that had happened between them that weekend, but she suddenly felt shy, as if she was afraid that he would be able to see exactly how she felt just from looking in her eyes.

 _He already knows how you feel, silly,_ she reminded herself. She managed to force a slight smile to accompany the nod, but she didn't say anything.

Tilting his head in the direction they'd been heading to see Patterson, Kurt turned and started walking again. "Come on," he told her simply, and they fell into step side by side once again.

They were barely through the door of her lab before Patterson was tripping over herself to meet them halfway across the room. " _Hey_ , you guys," she said with a knowing look from one of them to the other. Patterson had, after all, been significantly less drunk than Zapata at the party on Friday, therefore, she could remember it a little better, and could remember just how cute the two of them had been together.

"So, did you have a nice Christmas?" She wasn't looking for anything juicy – at least not now, with Weller there. She'd have to talk to Jane later, alone, for that. No, at that moment she was just genuinely so excited for the two of them. It had been clear that they'd had feelings for each other since the beginning, after all, and after everything that had happened with the CIA… well, Patterson was a sucker for a romantic 'meant to be' type story, and if anyone she'd ever meant had been meant to be, it was those two.

"We did," Kurt answered with a small smile, somehow feeling less like he was being interrogated than he had by Zapata. "And you?"

Patterson smiled and rolled her eyes, nodding. "Lots of family in town," she replied. "It was nice to get back to work. Somehow this is the _less_ stressful of the two options." Jane and Kurt both smiled, nodding sympathetically at the image of Patterson at home, being stressed out by her doubtlessly well-intentioned family.

"Anything new?" Kurt asked, watching the tension immediately take over Patterson's face once again.

"I've had a frustrating day in the tattoo department," she admitted. "Nothing has seemed to pan out today."

"That's okay, Patterson," Kurt said kindly. "Just keep plugging away." The blonde nodded as her determination returned. It helped to hear the certainty in Kurt's voice. "But right now," he told her, "You should be getting ready to get out of here. You look like you need rest even worse than you did when we _left_."

Patterson just shrugged, not wanting to even think about leaving. It was just barely 5:00, after all. What was she supposed to do? Go home and stare at her empty walls and think about how she'd let 'Borden' – Nigel – or whatever his name was… fool her so completely? No, she was better off at work. Of course, she knew better than to tell Kurt this.

"I know, I will," she replied. "I just want to check a few more things before I go."

Kurt looked at her skeptically, wondering how much longer she was going to do this to herself before she let someone help her. "I'm serious, Patterson," he told her, his tone exactly that. "I don't want to have to have an agent drop you off at home."

She smiled at him as if she thought he was kidding – though she was fairly sure that he wasn't – and nodded, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Weller, I promise. I'm almost done."

"We'll see you tomorrow then, _rested_ …" he told her, emphasizing the last word. Patterson smiled, nodding and rolling her eyes at him again. "Otherwise, I will be assigning a detail to make sure you go home and stay there long enough to sleep."

"Go home, you two," Patterson told them, appreciating what Kurt was trying to do, but just wishing that he would stop worrying about her. After all, she was _fine_. Or… she would be fine. _Eventually_.

"Good night, Patterson," Kurt said with a smile, shaking his head at her stubbornness. It seemed like everyone on his team had that streak, he suddenly realized.

Jane smiled at her and added, "Get some rest, please," she told the blonde. "Good night."

Patterson smiled back at them until she felt like her face as going to crack from pretending so hard to be happy, as Jane and Kurt finally left her lab. As soon as they were through the door, her face fell, returning to the frown that she'd been wearing most of the day. Like all the other days lately, she tried not to think about what time it was or whether she should be going home, only what she was trying to accomplish.

Back in the hall, Jane and Kurt walked close beside each other toward Kurt's office. It may or may not have been on purpose, but she felt the back of his hand brush against the back of hers, and she wished they were already _not_ at the office. After a brief stop in Kurt's office, where he determined that there was nothing there that couldn't wait until the next day, they were stepping back into the elevator, blissfully alone again.

As soon as the doors closed, she stepped forward to close the gap between them. She leaned her forehead on his shoulder, and his arms went around her back as his chin rested on the top of her head. He felt her sigh against him, and it made him sigh as well, pulling her a little tighter.

"What do you feel like eating?" he asked as the elevator's motion came to a stop, and the two were forced to stand up and step back from each other, once again just before the doors opened. "We could grab something from the Chinese place in your neighborhood and then take it back to your place to eat."

Just then, that sounded about as perfect as it was going to get, and she tried not to think about what came after _that_ … The part where she'd be staring at the empty safe house walls and talking herself down from the thoughts that swirled inside her head, like she usually did at night.

"Sounds good," she replied as they stepped out of the elevator, impressed that he remembered that there was a Chinese place in her neighborhood after all that time. It wasn't as though he'd been to her place recently, other than to stop quickly, after dark, for her grab her things for the weekend on Friday night.

Despite the fact that they were still in the parking garage, and technically still at the FBI, he grabbed her hand, holding it tightly as they walked back to his car, and he made sure that she got settled into the passenger side, closing the door behind her, before walking around to the driver's side.

Traffic was light as they made their way back towards Jane's neighborhood, and it wasn't long before they were climbing out of the car again, parked along the curb in front of the Chinese place that they hadn't been to together in a long time. Jane couldn't help but feel like they'd gotten there _too_ fast, feeling her anxiety about being back in her neighborhood growing steadily. This was going to be the problem with coming down from the high of such a good weekend, she could already see.

After ordering Shrimp Lo Mein and Kung Pao Chicken, along with an order of dumplings, they walked back outside into the cool night air to walk around the block while they waited for the food. There was a cold wind with a little bit of bite to it, but there was only a dusting of snow on the ground. It wasn't nearly as cold as it had been out in Clearfield, so for the moment, it didn't bother them. It was just cold enough for Jane to snuggle against Kurt for warmth as they walked, his arm once again around her shoulders and hers around his waist.

"You've been quiet these past few hours," he told her, letting her know that he had noticed. "Everything okay?" She stared at the ground ahead of them as they walked, wanting to say that she was fine, because she wanted it to be true. However, she knew that if she said that she was fine, it would be a lie, and she had promised herself not to lie to him again. Not after the way that her other lies and almost destroyed everything between them. After all, they were only just learning to trust each other again.

When she didn't reply right away, he pretty much figured that he knew the answer, and the fact that he felt her tense up only reinforced what he already knew. By the time she finally brought herself to reply, he was already formulating a response.

"I want to be," she said quietly, thinking that that sounded better than saying, _No, I am not okay_. "Altogether, I think you've told me about a hundred times that I'm going to be," He chuckled, remembering, because he supposed that was something he'd said frequently to reassure her, especially in the beginning. "I'm only starting to know what that means, though."

"I know," he replied simply, pulling his arm around her tighter. "And that's okay. There's no rush." After a pause, he added, "Ihave plenty of time… _We_ have plenty of time."

She smiled weakly, letting her head fall against his shoulder and wondering if that could be true. After all, everything had felt so rushed since she'd come back to the FBI, since Sandstorm's threat had been so imminent. The idea of having the luxury of time was unfamiliar to her, except for the hours she spent in her safe house alone, where time felt like anything _but_ a luxury. It occurred to her now, for the first time, that having time could actually be a good thing. Their weekend had helped her realize this.

They'd walked a few blocks up the street, turning at the corner to make their way back toward the restaurant in a large square on the grid-like blocks. "Do you feel different?" Jane asked after they'd walked in silence for a few minutes. She couldn't help but wonder, after watching him go through so much emotionally over the weekend.

"Different how?" he asked.

"After… this weekend. Being back in Clearfield after twenty-five years, and having to face all of your memories of… Taylor," she replied, hesitating before saying the name of the long-dead girl that had brought them together.

Nodding in understanding, he sighed. "I guess… In a way, yes. I do feel different. Almost like… a weight has been lifted off of me… one that I was so used to, I didn't even realize how heavy it was." He said it slowly and deliberately, as if he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.

"But that's good, right?" she asked in confusion, thinking that he didn't sound sure. It seemed strange, because she would have thought that that would have been a positive thing.

For some reason, the tone in her voice made him smile. It almost seemed like she was trying to reassure him, which was exactly what he would expect from her, knowing her as he did. "Yes, that's good," he replied warmly, turning slowly and looking down at her. He could only see her profile, but from her expression, it seemed like something was bothering her.

Realizing that he was watching her, she forced a smile onto her face, even though she didn't quite feel it. They walked for a few more minutes before he pulled her to a stop. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's stupid," she said, shaking her head and closing her eyes.

"If it's bothering you, it's not stupid," he told her. "Tell me." He turned and pulled her closer with both hands. Her left arm remained on his back, but her right hand stayed at her side.

Sighing heavily, she opened her eyes but stared down at the front of his jacket instead of looking up at him. "I feel _better_ , after this weekend," she began slowly, "I just…" She shook her head, not wanting to say what she was feeling. It was petty and stupid and childish.

"What?" he asked softly.

With a sigh, she figured that she might as well tell him, because he wasn't going to give up until she did, and she wasn't going to lie to him. Telling him was the only option. "I wish _I_ felt like that," she told him miserably. "And I hate myself for being jealous, because I'm _happy_ for you. I want you to get the weight of the world off of your shoulders. You deserve it…"

When she ran out of words, she fought the urge to lean forward until her forehead landed on his chest, wishing that she could run away, and yet simultaneously wanting to be as close to him as possible. How was it even possible to feel both at once? And so she stood there in front of him, determined _not_ to run and also to remain upright, to keep her distance from him. So she stood there, frozen in place in front of him.

She was breathing raggedly, and for a second he stood just as still as she did. No, he'd been too focused on what she had just said. He couldn't fault her for how she felt – on the contrary, he tried to imagine how it would feel to be in her shoes, and decided that he would probably feel something similar. Despite the fact that she liked to minimize her own strength and her own bravery, he knew better than anyone how hard she fought for each small victory over circumstances that had never been within her control in all the time that she had been Jane.

Thought she didn't move on her own, his arms came up to encircle her shoulders tightly, pulling her in. For a split second she tensed against him, as if she wanted to escape, before she relaxed and let him hold onto her.

"You're so hard on yourself," he said soothingly from beside her ear. "Did you ever notice that?" Her breathing was still uneven, and he paused for a few seconds, simply standing there as she only very slowly calmed back down. "There's nothing wrong with wishing that the things that weigh you down would disappear," he continued. "If only it worked that way…" He felt her breathing slowing down, even felt the slightest chuckle against him. "But you know that's why people need each other, right?"

Her head had rolled slightly to land on his shoulder, and now that he'd asked her a question, one that she couldn't figure out whether or not it was rhetorical, she lifted her head and leaned back just enough to look at him, a little confused.

Seeing that she was waiting for an explanation, and that somehow she genuinely didn't seem to know what he was talking about, he could only smile at her and shake his head. "Life – and _not_ just your life – is full of things that are too heavy to carry by yourself. That's why people need each other. Your life… well, you wouldn't be out of line to argue that the burdens you carry are heavier than what most people deal with. Of course, you are also a lot stronger than most people, maybe because of it. And no, that isn't fair, but neither is life in general. But however strong you are, that doesn't mean that you have to do it all by yourself…"

She seemed to still be processing what he was saying, and wasn't ready to respond, so he continued. "Of course, I'm really not one to talk about letting people in, seeing as how I've never been able to do it," he said, shaking his head. "So it's sort of ironic for me to be giving this advice, maybe. I've held in how I felt about… well, _everything_ , especially about Taylor… for practically my whole life. I could have dealt with it better, I suppose, but…" He stopped to take a deep breath, and then kept talking. "Well, I guess there weren't many people in my life, and there was no one I felt like I could open up to, so I just… _didn't_. Until now."

For a few seconds he just stared into her eyes, watching her look back at him, then he continued once again. "And even though yes, I do feel… _lighter_ … I'm not magically over it all. It doesn't all just _vanish_. It's still there. It's just… different, like you said." He paused then, glancing down for a second, and then back up at her. "And just so you know… the way I feel now, after this weekend… I _never_ could have gotten there without you… which explains why I never did, until now." He noticed that she still looked torn, and he smiled at her when she nodded sadly. "You have something I never had, though," he told her, smiling slowly in spite of the gravity of the conversation, as if he had a secret to tell her.

"What's that?" she asked, sincerely curious.

"Someone who's not going to let it take twenty-five years before _you_ get past all this, too," he replied quietly.

Despite her pained expression, there was a hint of a smile on her face, and she leaned forward until her forehead fell against his collarbone. She felt him kiss her temple as she inhaled slowly, trying to breathe in the calm that he was projecting so intensely. "You're going to be okay," he whispered, letting his cheek rest against hers.

"You keep saying that," she told him, just as quietly.

"Because I _mean_ it, silly," he replied.

Because he was holding onto her so tightly, he felt her chuckle just a little bit against him, and he could also sense that she was beginning to relax. He would have happily stayed exactly where he was, except that he once again became aware that that were standing on a darkened sidewalk, their dinner probably now waiting for them, and that they needed to sleep before going back to their work routine the following day. Many reasons that they shouldn't just be standing there, as much as he didn't want to let go of her.

"We should go get our food," he mumbled into the side of her face a few minutes later.

"Mmmmhmmm," she replied, not moving.

He chuckled at her, then asked, "Come on. If you haven't figured this out yet, you're not getting rid of me anytime soon, so this isn't your only chance for… _this_ ," he assured her.

"Well that's a happy thought," she said quietly, standing back up and slowly looking up at him. Shyness had crept back into her face, and he couldn't get over how endearing it looked on her.

Turning in the direction that they'd been walking, he let one arm drop from her shoulders, leaving the other one firmly in place as they made their way back to the restaurant, where they collected the food that was indeed waiting for them. Back in the car, they drove the rest of the way back to Jane's place, only now realizing how hungry they were as the car filled up with the smells of their dinner.

Kurt found a parking space directly in front of Jane's building, and they hopped out to survey the contents of the trunk to see what had to go inside. Before he picked up the box of books from the trunk, Jane stopped to carefully remove the small black box – Taylor's box – that had slid into one corner between the books, cupping one hand under it and one hand over it, almost as if she was protecting it. Holding her hands up toward Kurt, she removed the hand from over the top of it, waiting a few seconds while he just stared at it. She held it patiently until he was ready to take it, which he finally did a minute later, mumbling, "Thanks," before moving back to the front of the car and opening the door so that he could set it carefully inside the center console.

The transfer complete, he took her weekend bag along with the box containing his old books, leaving her with the shopping bag containing their food, out of the car to bring inside.

They made their way to the door with only Jane's things, which she tried her hardest to ignore. She told herself that it didn't matter that Kurt's duffle bag, the sleeping bag, and the bag of extra winter gear remained in the car – of course they did. They were _his_ , and this was _her_ place. She reminded herself that she was being more than a little ridiculous when she felt a twinge of – what was it, exactly? She couldn't even be sure. All she knew was, she didn't like it. She'd very quickly gotten used to being with him all the time. _Too quickly_. The thought of having separate homes once again made her chest ache.

So she did the only thing she _could_ do just then, and told herself that it didn't matter, focusing on their food, and on the fact that he was beside her as they sat down on the couch with the take out boxes, chopsticks in hand – apparently using chopsticks was a skill that she _hadn't_ ever forgotten. After all, who cared where the bags were, when _he_ was right there, sitting snuggled up next to her?

He'd turned on the TV in the corner of the room, which was playing something she didn't recognize – which could have been almost anything, because she never really watched TV, and when she did, it all looked the same to her. The only mildly interesting thing she'd come across was the show that had made her realize that she spoke Japanese, called Ninja Warrior, which she'd stumbled upon in the middle of the night once when she couldn't sleep.

On an impulse, she leaned her left side – the side that he was sitting on – against the couch cushions behind them so that she was facing him, and carefully swung her legs over his, so that her heels rested on the cushion on the other side of him, the weight of her legs across his lap. She wasn't sure how he would react, of course, and she immediately wondered if she should have resisted. Looking up at him shyly, she noticed the surprise in his face when he looked down at her in complete amusement.

The paradoxes in her would never cease to amaze him. She'd just done something that could be considered at least a little bit bold, and yet the look on her face was extremely shy. He didn't have to try to smile back at her, because it happened all on its own. After all, how could he _not_ love this about her?

"Comfy?" he asked with a grin, resting his arms on the fabric of her jeans and moving his left hand, which was not holding any food, slowly behind her knee.

"Yes," she said, now smiling happily. "Very." She now felt very good about her spur of the moment decision. So far, being back in New York was going just fine.

 _See?_ the voice in her head asked. _Nothing to worry about._

 _We'll see_ , she replied, cautiously optimistic.

They ate straight out of the take out containers, sitting there on the couch. They took turns taking dumplings out of the container that Kurt was holding, and after that they each picked up one of the other two, trading every few minutes.

He noticed that each time they traded, it looked from the amount of food inside the container as if Jane hadn't eaten anything at all. And yet, he'd watched her put food into her mouth, little by little, time and time again. Not much, but something.

Setting the box of Lo Mein down on the coffee table for the last time, as if reading his thoughts, she sighed and said, "I like eating out of the container, instead of on a plate. It's a lot less obvious how little I can eat."

Kurt had, actually, forgotten about Jane's only slowly recovering appetite and how self-conscious it made her. He'd watched her eating with him at every meal that weekend, and the fact that he knew that she was eating was all that mattered to him, not how much. Carefully, so he didn't make her lose her balance, he leaned around her to set the take out box down on the coffee table beside hers, and then wound his arms around her waist to her lower back.

Turning his body toward her and looking down at her intensely for a minute before he replied, he took his time when he did. After all, he didn't want her to just dismiss what he was saying. "You're doing fine, Jane. Don't focus on that. It's going to get better. Give it a little time."

"It's been… months already," she replied sadly, her forehead leaning forward against his shoulder so that she didn't have to look at him.

With a sigh, Kurt was once again faced with the fact that for months, he had ignored her well-being, or lack thereof, and allowed her to suffer the anger and resentment of the team – most strikingly his own. He was someone who had allegedly known her well enough that he should have believed her when she said that she'd done what she'd done to protect them. That should have been the end of it, or at least, it would have put her on the road to recovery a lot sooner. Not only that, he should have known her well enough that she should not have needed to _tell_ him that in the first place. He should have just _known_.

"Ssshhhhh," he said soothingly, bringing his left hand up slowly along her back until it reached her neck, then laying his hand flat against her skin and simply moving it up and down the back of it. "We've always done better together, and this is going to be no exception. Right?"

Smiling, despite the fact that she suddenly felt a wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her once again, she nodded against his shoulder.

"Okay then, good," he replied quietly. The TV droned on in the background, and Kurt had no idea what they were watching. He leaned his right cheek against Jane's head, looking at the TV without actually seeing it, and before long he felt his eyes growing heavy. It had been another long, emotional day, after all. He couldn't see Jane's face, but from the sound of her breathing, he guessed that she'd already dozed off.

 _We need to get up. I need to go home,_ he thought fleetingly, not wanting to do anything of the sort. Even though he knew that they'd regret it if they tried to sleep there, sitting up like that, he couldn't help but think that it was perfect. Telling himself that he'd force himself up in a few more minutes, he relaxed against the couch, and against Jane.

The next thing he knew, Kurt was stirring. He'd fallen asleep, of course, as had Jane. According to the clock, it was almost midnight, and with another full day ahead of him, he knew that he should let both of them get some real sleep. It seemed ridiculous to wake her up in order to send her to bed, but that was exactly what he intended to do.

"Jane," he whispered beside her face. Pushing his face gently into her hair, he breathed in the scent of her shampoo and thought that he might never get enough of the feeling of being so close to her. "Hey," he mumbled. "Time for bed. I need to get going so you can get some sleep."

She'd been waking up just fine, happily and peacefully, until he'd said that he needed to get going. Now, suddenly she felt tense and anxious in addition to sleepy and slightly disoriented.

"Do you need me to carry you again?" he asked.

"No," she replied, with a little more irritation in her voice than she'd intended. Finally lifting her head when she felt him shifting underneath her, she muttered, "Fine, I'm getting up." She didn't want to be testy with him, especially after how sweet he'd been to her – _again_ – just like he'd been for the past 4 days straight. _Of course_ he deserved to be allowed to go home. She didn't _want_ him to, but what kind of needy, childish person did that make her if she tried to stop him?

 _No,_ she told herself, _get a grip._ She lifted her legs off of him, turning to put her feet on the floor, already feeling like she was far, far away from him when really they were still right beside each other. Feeling the beginning of the all too familiar sensation of falling, the one that she sometimes got when her walls were going back up, she braced her hands against the edge of the couch.

 _It's fine_ , she thought, taking deep breaths.

"I should go. We both need some sleep, and the morning will be here early," he said, looking at her worriedly until she finally looked up at him. She looked tired, and there was something else in her eyes, but he couldn't quite pinpoint it. "Okay?"

"Yeah," she said, determined to let him go home, no matter how _not_ okay she felt about it. He didn't have to babysit her, after all. He'd been nice enough to let her tag along with him for the weekend. She'd survived without him by her side every second before, so what in the world was her problem now?

 _Stop it,_ she told herself. _This is not rejection. You're reading way too much into this. You just need to sleep._

Of course, she wasn't sure of the likelihood that that was going to happen. She didn't exactly have a great track record of being able to sleep well inside these particular walls.

They both stood up and stretched. He closed the take out containers and took them to the refrigerator, then watched as she slowly caught up with him outside the kitchen. He couldn't decide if what he was seeing in her face was a product of being tired, or if something was bothering her.

 _If you had to guess,_ he told himself, _knowing Jane, it's not tiredness._

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked with genuine concern.

The tone of his voice just made her more determined not to burden him with how she felt.

 _That's stupid,_ she told herself. _He sincerely want to know if you're going to be okay. You're already not okay. Just say something. Or is he supposed to just read your mind?_

 _No,_ she thought stubbornly. _I_ _ **am**_ _okay._ She could see a physical representation of the voice in her head, inside her head. It looked exactly like her, and it was shaking its head at her in annoyance at her stubbornness.

Following him to the door, she forced herself to breathe normally, despite the rising feeling of panic in her chest. _It's fine_ , she kept telling herself.

"Thank you again for everything this weekend," he was saying, turning around to face her and pulling her into a hug.

"No, thank _you_ ," she said insistently. "You saved me from having to spend Christmas here by myself."

His eyes darted around to the dark, empty space behind her, and he was relieved that he'd finally come to his senses. It may be a safe place for her physically, but that didn't meant that she should spend so much time alone there. He felt badly enough about leaving her there now, for just a few hours, after all… but it wasn't as though he could just announce that he was going to stay over.

 _Oh really?_ a voice in his head asked skeptically. _What would it take before you would do exactly that? I'll bet you would decide that you were staying if she was crying… or if she was upset._

 _But she's not,_ he insisted. _She's fine._

 _She's not fine,_ the voice replied quickly. _You can't see that._

Standing back, he looked into her eyes once again, trying to determine whether she was actually okay, or just pretending. She was really excellent at deception, when she wanted to be – it had been part of her Sandstorm training, it seemed.

Still, he felt like of all people, _he_ should be able to tell when something was bothering her. While she clearly wanted him to believe that she was fine, he had a nagging suspicion that she wasn't being completely honest, despite how determinedly she was acting that way. He looked at her hard again, and said, "Call me if you need anything, okay? I mean it."

When she nodded nonchalantly, as if she thought nothing of it, his gut feeling about the fact that she wasn't as fine as she let on only intensified. Still, they both needed to sleep… and now they were home, and this was where she lived, but he didn't. It might be different if she'd asked him not to go…

 _She doesn't ask for help and you know it,_ the voice in his head spat, getting angry now.

"I'm serious, Jane," he said, looking at her so intensely now that the look on his face was almost accusatory.

Forcing the closest thing to a genuine smile onto her face that she could, she nodded as slowly as she could make herself, trying to make it believable, and replied, "I will."

He still didn't look satisfied, but he turned and opened the door. After all, what else could he do, short of either A) take her home with him or B) simply refuse to leave her alone?

 _Perhaps you should seriously consider doing one of those,_ the voice in his head told him.

 _No, those weren't serious options,_ he replied in annoyance. _I can't do either one._

 _Why not?_ the voice wanted to know, but he ignored it, turning back to Jane once more, one hand on the doorknob.

She watched him closely, wishing that she could hold him there with her eyes alone. But of course, she wasn't going to stop him from leaving. They would see each other at work in only a few hours, after all. There was simply no way she was going to burden him with her any more tonight. He deserved a break.

Leaning down slowly towards her, he kissed her, on the lips this time, slowly but not quite innocently. Far too soon, he was pulling himself back, determined to make himself go home and go to bed before it officially became Wednesday. Or, at least to get into his _car_ before it became Wednesday. Midnight was fast approaching, after all.

"I'll see you in a few hours," he told her. Her eyes held onto him like a tractor beam, and once again, he couldn't help but doubt his decision to leave by himself. Knowing that he had to disengage from her eyes at some point, he had yet to bring himself to do so. "I love you, Jane," he whispered, and was rewarded with what looked like a far more genuine smile that the one that had been on her face a second before.

"I love you, too," she whispered, having to restrain herself with everything inside her from clamping her arms around him and preventing him from leaving.

 _Why are you letting him leave?_ the voice in her head demanded.

 _It's been four days,_ she replied, _We're not married. Of course he's allowed to leave_.

 _But you hate it,_ the voice said insistently.

 _That's not the point,_ she told it with finality in her tone.

 _You never even asked him to stay_ , the voice protested. _What if he hates the idea of leaving just as much as you do?_

She ignored the voice, knowing that that wasn't the case. How did she know? She just did.

Forcing himself to break eye contact, he turned around and pushed the door open, letting himself back out into the cool night air. It felt even colder outside that it had earlier, but that could just have been the contrast with being inside, snuggled up with Jane on the couch where he'd been a few minutes before, he told himself.

 _Where you'd be right now, if you were smarter_ , the voice in his head told him.

 _That's not helping,_ he told the voice, and then tried determinedly to ignore it after that.

Inside, Jane picked up her bag and heaved it onto her shoulder, dragging herself upstairs.

 _One thing at a time,_ she told herself, attempting to stay calm, _one_ _ **second**_ _at a time._

She dreaded seeing the bare walls of her bedroom once again after spending four days away from them. Pausing in the doorway just as Kurt had done on Friday night, she found everything exactly as she'd left it. It was all just as depressing as before, but more so now that there was something else to compare it to. The last time she'd been there, she hadn't known anything different except for her first safe house. Now, of course, all that had changed.

With a sigh, she dropped the bag on the floor by the wall, fished out her toiletries and then quickly got herself ready for bed. Not even bothering with finding pajamas, she stripped off her jeans and long sleeved shirt with a sigh and crawled into bed in her sports bra and underwear. It had been an exhausting weekend. Amazing, emotionally draining and yet also emotional in the most _positive_ way at the same time. Really, there were no words to describe how much it had meant to her – which, of course, made being back in her safe house even harder.

If she'd still been back in Clearfield with Kurt, there was a pretty good chance that she'd have gotten a good night sleep. Yes, she'd had one nightmare there, but that was so far below her average, even one bad one was far better than usual.

She'd somehow forgotten that she usually avoided sleep before that weekend away, that is until she dragged herself into bed. Now, as she lay there in the absolute stillness, it all came rushing back to her. Instinctively, she clamped her eyes tightly shut, but the feeling of dread that came over her as soon as they were closed was so overpowering that within seconds she was staring at the ceiling, willing herself _not_ to fall asleep.

 _Welcome back to reality_ , the voice in her head said ominously, making her shudder.

To pass the time, she began counting the cracks in the ceiling, anything to give her mind something to do. The problem was, this monotonous activity was mindless and relatively soothing, so without meaning to, she lulled herself into drowsiness. Not more than thirty minutes after she'd promised herself that she would stay awake, she had fallen asleep.

Kurt reached his apartment, bringing the two duffle bags, the sleeping bag and very carefully, the small box containing Taylor's wishes, inside in one trip. That only left the box of games, which remained in the car for the time being. As he set his things down wearily, he looked around. Everything was exactly the way he had left it, and yet… it felt wrong. After all, how could everything be the same as it had been before, when _he_ felt so different? Smiling slightly, he realized that Jane had said that she'd felt something similar when she'd come into his apartment on Friday night.

 _How can I feel out of place somewhere that had been my home for years, and where I was perfectly comfortable just a few days ago?_ he wondered. He simply couldn't fight the feeling that something was missing.

 _Or some_ _ **one**_ , the voice suggested.

 _That's ridiculous,_ he told himself. _That doesn't happen in a weekend._ And yet, even as he was thinking that it was impossible, he was wondering if it might somehow be true.

 _You're right,_ the voice in his head assured him sarcastically, obviously not buying a word he was saying. _You're just tired._ _You had a very emotional weekend, with both extreme highs and lows. You'll be fine once you've had some sleep._

He wanted to believe that that was all it was, but deep down he had a suspicion that there was more to it. A _lot_ more. Though he didn't want to admit it to himself, he knew that it had to do with Jane.

 _Just go to bed_ , he told himself. _What you need is some sleep. You'll be up again in just a few hours and back in the office – you should sleep while you can._

It made sense logically, even though he had a nagging feeling that simply sleep wasn't going to solve what was bothering him. Still, without another good option, he decided to get ready for bed. Leaving everything where he'd set it down except the duffle bag with his clothes, he made his way tiredly to his bedroom. Once there, he put his bag down in a corner and fished through it only long enough to find his toothbrush, walking robotically to the bathroom with it.

Walking back into his room a few minutes later, he was almost surprised to find it empty. _You're an idiot, Weller. Who exactly were you expecting?_ he asked himself in annoyance. The answer was _No one_ , of course. He knew there was no one else in his apartment with him. And yet, he couldn't but think of Friday night, when he'd been packing clothes for both of them and she'd been sitting down on the bed watching him. Somehow he managed to shake the image from his mind, but it wasn't easy.

As soon as he did, it was replaced with a new one, which stayed even more stubbornly stuck in his head. This one was walking back into the bedroom in Clearfield and finding Jane there, which had happened quite a few times over the few days they'd been there. The fact that she wasn't here this time was already distressing him, and he'd only been home less than five minutes.

 _Get a grip, already,_ he told himself. _Just go to sleep._

Not having any company for the first time in several nights, this time he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. He tossed and turned for much longer than usual, unable to get comfortable or get his mind to turn off. Finally, sure that it must be time to get up, already, he was dismayed to see that the clock across the room on his dresser said that it was only 2:57 am. Frustrated and exhausted, he made the conscious decision to close his eyes, determined to _make_ himself sleep. Of course, it didn't really work like that, which was the problem, and only a few minutes later he knew that he had to try something else.

Telling himself to think of something relaxing, he immediately saw Jane's face behind his eyelids. However, the particular image of her that sprang to mind was the way she'd looked when he'd left her at her door a few hours before, and her expression wasn't exactly one that was going to help him relax… On the contrary, the tension that was behind the smile that she'd been forcing at the time now seemed obvious to him.

 _Dammit, Jane,_ he mumbled, sitting up in bed and swinging his feet to the floor. _How did I not realize it before?_ he wondered in frustration. _Of course she wasn't going to say anything… God, but I'm a dumbass._

Since it was suddenly obvious to him that he was not going to get any sleep, he stood up and went to his dresser for clean clothes.

Jane sat up in bed, gasping for air. She'd had one of those dreams again. Not like the one that had driven her out into the snow in Clearfield, thank goodness, but one of the ones that she commonly had here at her safe house… _far_ more often than she had admitted to Kurt. Forcing her eyes open, she stared at the ceiling again, trying to catch her breath.

 _It's not real,_ she told herself, feeling herself shaking as she scooted back towards the headboard, pulling herself to sit up and then drawing her legs up in front of her tightly with her left arm, clutching the blanket tightly in her right.

Resting her forehead against her knees for a long enough to take several deep breaths, she looked up again and scanned her room. There didn't seem to be any danger… Glancing at the bedside table, she was relieved to see that despite how tired she'd been when she'd gotten home, she'd remembered to bring her phone upstairs with her. Reaching her left arm out for it, she touched the screen several times without hesitation and then brought it to her ear.

As he closed the door of his car behind him and reached for his seatbelt, he was surprised to hear his phone buzz in his pocket. _Who in the world is calling me at 3:08 in the morning? Unless… No way_ , he thought _._

Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he pulled it out and just smiled when he saw the display. It was Jane, of course. And yes, the fact that she was calling him meant that something was wrong, but it also meant that she was _admitting_ that something was wrong. It also meant that they'd been thinking of _each other_ … at the same time.

"I'm already on my way, Jane," he said warmly into the phone.

At the other end of the phone, huddled in a ball at the end of her bed, Jane was shaking, clutching the blankets to her. Even so, she suddenly felt like she could breathe just a little easier when she heard his voice.

 _Just a few more minutes,_ she told herself, closing her eyes and then wincing at the images she saw there. _Just a few more minutes._ She set her phone down on the bed beside her, feeling as though keeping it close to her was, in some strange way, like keeping him close to her… at least until he was actually _there._


	38. Exactly the Opposite

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)_**

When he didn't hear anything, he felt a twinge of worry. "Jane?" he asked. Still nothing. "You know that I can't see if you're nodding your head, right?" he said, wondering if that was actually what she was doing. Even if she wasn't talking, the fact that she'd called him at all was pretty damn amazing, considering that it meant admitting that she needed help… that she needed _him_ , for whatever reason.

"Sorry." Her voice through the speaker was so quiet that he almost didn't hear her.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes, maybe less, okay?" he told her gently. He could only assume that she was nodding again, or that she simply spoke too softly for the microphone to register it, because he couldn't hear a response. "Hang in there, Jane," he said, and then before he could decide whether he should leave the line open, the call disconnected. He would have worried if it wasn't for the fact that he _had_ heard her. If she'd been screaming, it would have been different. But she'd been quiet, which meant that she wasn't in physical danger. If he had to guess, he'd say that she'd probably had another nightmare.

 _Why did we bother trying to do this on our own?_ he wondered. He had to smile as he was reminded of the first night in Clearfield, when they'd slept separately, though only feet apart, and both had nightmares… only to sleep better than _he_ had, at least, in years when she curled up beside him.

 _Because you're an idiot, Weller,_ he thought to himself. _You're both idiots._

He pulled into the same parking spot his car had occupied hours before, reaching for a small bag on the seat next to him and then closing the door behind him as he jogged to Jane's door. Not bothering to knock, he used the flashlight on his phone to illuminate his keyring, so that he could find his copy of the key to her house. He hadn't let himself into any safe house of hers in a very, very long time, but if he had to guess, he'd say that she was probably huddled in a corner at the moment, and it just seemed easier to go to _her_ instead of making her come to the door.

As he'd expected, the first floor was dark and silent. The only faint light came from under the door to Jane's bedroom at the top of the stairs, where he assumed that she was. He slipped off his shoes, locked the door behind him, and then shrugged out of his coat, leaving it on a hook by the door. Taking the stairs two at a time, he only slowed when he got to the top. Stopping at her door, he knocked softly and then, when there was no answer, he turned the knob and slowly pushed it open. She didn't even look up as he stepped inside the room and, out of habit, closed the door behind him. What he saw was very much what he had imagined that he would find.

There sat Jane, the covers pulled up tightly around her in one hand as she sat with her back to the headboard. One arm was wrapped tightly around her knees, which were pulled up to her chest. Her chin rested on her left knee, and her eyes were closed. As he'd pretty much expected, she'd rolled herself into as tight a ball as she could, her shoulders hunched forward tightly. Her breathing was slow but very deliberate, giving away just how _not_ okay she was, as far as he was concerned. He felt an ache in his chest at the sight of her like that, and his only thought was that he needed to figure out which angle would be the best from which to approach her. After all, he knew instinctively that the way to help her was for him to get closer to her.

"Jane," he whispered, but she didn't open her eyes. Somehow he knew that she knew he was there, even though she didn't acknowledge it.

Of the three options available to him, whether to approach her from the right, the left or the front, he decided to try her right, which meant walking around to the far side of the bed, since she was sitting on the left side, closest to the door. He had also noticed that her arms were bare, as were her shoulders with the exception of what looked like the top of a sports bra, and he wondered if getting close to her when she appeared to be in her underwear would make her uncomfortable. Spotting her t-shirt on the floor, he picked it up and draped it beside her on her side of the bed, so that she could easily reach it if she decided that she wanted it, then walked quietly around to the other side.

She'd gathered the blankets tightly towards her, pulling them off most of the rest of the bed. Because of the way she held them in front of her, when he reached her right side, he was faced with a lot more of her skin than he'd seen in person before that. He could now confirm that she was indeed wearing only a sports bra and her underwear. Of course, _he_ certainly had no problem with that, he only worried that it would bother _her_. However, as he moved closer to her, she made no effort to cover herself any more than she was already doing, so he didn't focus on it as a problem for the moment. First things first, after all.

With so much of her skin exposed, including almost her entire back, he could see some of the remnants of her scars, which made him cringe. Not because he was disgusted by her, of course. No, on the contrary, he was even more enraged with Keaton than he already had been. Keaton, who'd somehow felt no qualms about disfiguring her this way, again and again. It was _inhumane_.

Kurt sat facing her, the door straight ahead of him, Jane facing the wall that was now to his right. Attempting to settle as close to her as he could, he knelt on the bed, his knees barely touching her right hip, with only the fabric of his sweatpants separating his skin from hers.

"Jane," he said again, reaching his left hand to her right shoulder, and then slowly sliding it across to her left shoulder, pulling her towards him. For a split second he felt her tense at the contact, but almost immediately she relaxed again, allowing him to tug her closer. His right arm wrapped around the front of her, so that his hands met near her left shoulder, so that he was now holding onto her tightly. He could feel her shaking, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her bare right shoulder, then back up again so that he could pull her more tightly to him. Almost immediately, the right side of her head fell against his chest, as he rested his chin against the top of her head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I shouldn't have left you here by yourself."

She scoffed, her breath catching in her throat, and she shook her head against him. "No," she replied, her voice filled with misery. "Don't be _ridiculous._ It's my…" She couldn't bring herself to say "It's my home," or even "It's my house," because her safe house really didn't feel like either one. It was just where the FBI was keeping her, a collection of four walls. So instead, she started her sentence over again. "I mean… I **_live_** here. Of course you left me here… Why wouldn't you? _I'm_ the one who's sorry…" It seemed like she'd intended to say more, but he felt her shudder and she fell silent.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Jane," he told her evenly. "Besides, you weren't the only one having a bad night. I was already in my car when you called me." Her breathing seemed to stabilize as she turned her face slowly towards him and opened her eyes, looking at him in confusion.

"You were? But… _Why_?" she asked.

He smiled then, looking at her with affection. "Well, I couldn't sleep. Not even a little bit," he replied slowly. "My apartment felt… different, all of a sudden. _Empty_." He shrugged, looking away from her for a second, feeling slightly self-conscious but knowing that saying exactly how he felt just then was an important step towards reassuring her. "I was _worried_ about you. Which, obviously, I was right to be. I could tell that something wasn't right when I left, I just… I should've stayed, but I didn't want to impose on you. This is _your_ space. And… well… I didn't want to assume that you wanted me here… And, well… I guess… it sounds crazy, maybe, but… I missed you…"

A sound escaped her that was halfway between laughter and a choked sob, and she shook her head at him, slowly realizing exactly what had happened. That they had been thinking almost the same thing, but neither of them had said anything.

"For the record," she said, managing to laugh at the absurdity of it all even as tears stung her eyes, "I have never once, so far, _wanted_ to be alone here. I spend way too much time alone here as it is. I don't think that will ever happen, but if it ever does, I'll let you know. So _please_ , always assume exactly the opposite."

He chuckled, shaking his head, his arms relaxing slightly abut still holding onto her as he asked, "Why didn't you just _say_ something, Jane?"

She sighed, now feeling ridiculous. "I mean… I knew I would probably have nightmares, which was why I wasn't exactly acting excited to go home all evening… but I didn't want you to feel like… like you had to stay just because of me…" She bit her lip, hating to say it. "You deserved to go home and sleep in your own bed. I've lived here for a while… I'm… used to it." Staring down at the blankets in front of her, she hated how pathetic she sounded. She had worked so hard not to show any weakness since she'd come back to the FBI, and now she was flat out confessing _all_ of her weaknesses. It felt wrong.

Staring at her profile as she refused to look at him, he shook his head in amazement. Once again, she had him at a loss for words. "Jane… I… I don't do things for you because I _have_ to. I know that I haven't done a good job of showing you that, maybe until a few days ago, but I… all the things I'm doing are things that I _want_ to do for you. I didn't want to crowd you. We've spent a lot of time together this weekend, and we work together… I didn't want you to feel like it was too much. After all, even if you get sick of me, we'll still have to work together, and we already know what awkwardness feels like between us…"

She turned towards him and they shared a knowing look then, both of them all too familiar with that feeling after the past few months. "But if you want me around, then… well, that's where _I'd_ rather be, anyway. So there's no problem. Okay?"

She nodded, taking a deep breath and looking back at the wall. "So… what you're saying is… we're both idiots?" After her words had had a minute to sink in, she turned to look at him again, and he could see that she was now smiling tiredly.

Breathing a sigh of relief because she was smiling, he shook his head. "Basically, yeah… I think we are," he replied. His right hand moved to clasp her right hand, which was still clutching the blankets tightly, and his left hand moved down slightly from her shoulder onto her back. In the light of the lamp on her bedside table, he could see some of the scars that she was so self-conscious about. He couldn't see all of them from his angle, of course, but the ones he could see in one quick glance were significant, though they were obviously healing. Without even thinking about it, his fingers moved to the one closest to his hand, just to the right of her left shoulder blade.

She stiffened when his fingers moved onto the spot that he'd never before been able to see, only now realizing how very little she was wearing. Somehow, however, her discomfort only lasted a few seconds. All of the spots were extra sensitive, if not physically, than psychologically, but Kurt's fingers were gentle, and she relaxed again, surprised that she didn't mind the sensation. It was even relaxing, she was surprised to find. After all, what he was doing was the opposite of the way she'd gotten those scars in the first place.

He hadn't really even realized what he'd done until she flinched. His fingers stopped moving where they were, as if they were frozen against her skin while he tried to figure out what to do. "Sorry," he whispered, even though he felt her relaxing again. "Should I stop?" he asked hesitantly. She turned and looked at him then, her face a mixture of happiness and sadness that he couldn't untangle.

She shook her head slightly, then as if on a delay, she added a quiet, "No," almost as an afterthought.

 _Why does she look like she's about to cry, then?_ he wondered.

They stared at each other for what felt like a very long time, but which was actually only about a minute, before she turned her head and leaned her left cheek against her knees, so that she was still watching him, but with her head down. Her eyes were still happy and sad at the same time, but it was as though she was going back into her shell again in a way. He wished he could understand how this combination of emotions was even possible.

His fingers moved again, as if in slow motion, so gently she almost didn't feel the touch as it moved carefully along that same scar. "Does that… hurt?" he asked with concern.

Her head was shaking before she even realized it, and she picked her head up once more so that she could look at him straight on. The expression on her face, the sadness of which he couldn't even think of a word that would adequately describe it, made his chest hurt.

"Exactly the opposite," she said, once again in a whisper.

"So… then why are you crying?" he asked quietly, trying to understand. He released her right hand, still holding the blankets, and brought his own hand up to her cheek. There, his thumb swept back and forth, wiping a few stray tears as they fell.

She smiled, even as tears continued to fall from her eyes. Her breathing became and faster as she tried to catch her breath. Watching her smiling and crying at the same time, he wished he could understand what was going on in her head. Moving his left hand slowly across her back, he found various blemished spots on her skin, some large and some small, solely by touch. And though she'd said that it didn't hurt her, when her smile finally disappeared and her face slowly crumpled, he had trouble believing that he _wasn't_ hurting her.

After kneeling for so long, he could feel his feet beginning to tingle, and if they weren't asleep yet, they soon would be unless he changed position. Unwilling to remove either of his hands from where they were, he shifted slowly so that his legs stretched out to the side from under him, turning to his right and pushing himself back so that his back was against the headboard and his legs were out in front of him. He was now behind her on her right side, and she immediately turned towards him to correct the change in his position, keeping them almost at the same angle towards each other at which they had been.

Her grip on the blankets had loosened, but she still held them in front of her with her right hand, now more because she was a little bit self-conscious… though _not_ self-conscious enough to find and put on her shirt – especially not while his hand was trailing over her back. Somehow, despite her whole breakdown in the locker room because of those very scars only a few days before, she was suddenly okay with him seeing the state that the CIA had left her in. How much of that was because things had changed between them in the past few days, and how much of it was due to her exhaustion – to the point where she was suddenly fine with him seeing what had become of her – that she wasn't sure.

To his credit, she couldn't help but notice that his reaction had been a surprise so far, pretty much the exact opposite of what she'd expected. As she sat there, crying, she tried to figure out _why_ she was reacting the way she was. All she could come up with was that there were so many emotions inside her that she'd held in for so long, and now that she felt safe with him she was suddenly releasing them, albeit unexpectedly. Maybe that wasn't it at all, or maybe that was only part of it, but it was all she could come up with. Because sitting there with Kurt, realizing yet again the depth of his feelings for her, she was, in fact, very happy. She only _looked_ distraught.

 _He's going to think I'm crazy_ , she told herself.

 _Hush_ , the voice in her head replied. _If he didn't think so already, he never will. And if he already did, well, he obviously didn't mind. So either way, don't worry about it._

She hadn't answered his question about why she was crying, she now realized. As she pulled herself back out of her thoughts, she saw him watching her carefully, a worried expression on his face. Her breathing had slowed back to normal, and she did her best to smile at him, suddenly feeling calmer. Or maybe she was just exhausted. All she _did_ know was that one of his hands was still on her cheek, and the other was still moving gently along her back, and both of those things were way more than okay with her.

"I don't like to see you cry," he told her sincerely, an unhappy look in his eyes. Her smile was suddenly completely genuine, and she immediately felt tears forming in her eyes again, against her will. They were happy tears, however, and at the same time, she felt a tug on her heart.

"Sorry," she said in the loudest voice she could muster – which was barely a whisper. "I didn't even know all that was inside me."

Shaking his head and now smiling again, he told her, "And that's why you can't hold everything in, and pretend you're fine when you're _not_. Because eventually, it all has to come out. It's easier to let it out a little at a time, along the way, so you don't have to explode."

"That only works if there's someone there to help you let it out," she replied seriously, knowing she was being gently chided for her stubbornness. But because it was Kurt she was talking to, she didn't even mind. Besides, it was the truth and she knew it.

"Well, there may or may not have been someone like that around at any given point before," he replied slowly, despite the fact that both of them knew exactly what the times periods were when he had and had not been there for her, "But there definitely is now," he told her, staring into her eyes. "Okay?" She smiled then, knowing that they understood each other exactly.

"Okay," she replied softly. His message was clear: _From now on,_ he was telling her, _you're going to let me help you. No question about it._ While some may have considered his declaration a little bossy, she felt warmth spread out inside of her because of it. It meant that he cared. Not that she hadn't already known that he cared, but it made it that much more real.

He looked across the room at the clock on her dresser, shaking his head. "It's almost 4:30, Jane," he told her. "What do you say we get some sleep now?" Her eyes remained on him steadily and she didn't reply, just watched him as if looking for clues about exactly what he meant. Shaking his head with a laugh, he asked, "Really? You think I'd try and go _anywhere_ else?" Her features immediately relaxed again, and she leaned closer to him and smiling sheepishly at the fact that he'd read her mind.

"I think we've already proven that there's only way we're going to get to sleep," he said quietly, scooting down further onto the bed so that his head lay on the pillow, his right hand finally leaving her cheek as they shifted. He folded his right arm behind his head, watching her as she also moved into a position that was more conducive to sleep, to the left of him. She propped her head up on her right arm, laying on her side and looking intently at him there in front of her, only a few inches away. For a second, she almost looked shy, as if they hadn't already curled up together in the small bed in Clearfield numerous times – or the even smaller sleeping bag, for that matter.

Then, finally realizing that she was still clutching most of the blankets in the front of her, now in her left hand, she slowly released them, lifting them so she could spread them over him as well. This, of course, made her state of undress much more obvious. He kept his eyes on her face, trying to read her expression for any trace of discomfort.

"I put your shirt on the bed by your feet, if you want it," he told her, his eyes still not leaving her face.

"That's sweet of you," she told him, lifting her head and threading her arm under her pillow, laying her face against it and then snuggling closer to him, moving little by little. "But I'm okay like this."

"Just okay?" he asked, pretending to be surprised. "Then you must not be close enough."

Suddenly grinning broadly, she shook her head at him. "Is that so?" she asked.

"Well, that's just my opinion. You know, you do whatever you're comfortable with," he told her, not wanting her to feel pressured either way. "But…" he added shyly, "There's only one way to find out for sure…"

Rolling her eyes at him and smiling in pretend annoyance, she slowly moved closer to him, letting her head fall on his shoulder. His left arm was now around her back, moving slowly across far more exposed skin than he'd had access to before tonight.

"Mmmmm, you're right," she told him. "This _is_ better." Then, after thinking for a minute, she added, "Though… I feel a little underdressed."

"Nah, you're perfect," he replied quickly, pulling his arm tighter around her. "Though… you know… you should wear whatever you want to."

She noticed that he said 'perfect' and not 'perfectly dressed,' though she knew that he'd claim innocence if she'd mentioned it. "And anytime you want me to take something off, you say the word. Alright?" he added.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she punched him gently in the side. "I'm kidding," he grinned in obvious amusement.

"Oh please," she told him, "you're not _at all_ kidding." At that he blushed, and she could see it even with the scruff on his face. "Busted," she whispered, pushing herself up on her elbow and then, positioning herself just above him, leaning down to kiss him. In her exhausted state, the kiss felt that much more breathtaking, and for a few seconds, her mind was empty of everything except the two of them, there in that second.

As much as she would have liked to continue kissing him for the foreseeable future, she pulled herself back up a minute later, leaning back to lay on his shoulder again. The combination of exhaustion and the kiss had left her a little bit dizzy, but in a good way. Sleep, however, had become a non-negotiable need at this point. "I guess we need to set an alarm if we want to wake up before noon," she whispered, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Already set, in my phone," he said, nodding towards the bag he'd set on the floor by the door when he'd come in. "So neither of us has to move."

"That's the best news I've heard in… Uh… I don't know. I'm too tired to think," she said, feeling giddy with exhaustion.

Chuckling, he kissed her forehead and moved his arm up and down slowly along her back. "Let's try sleeping again, before we run out of night completely, okay?" he asked. She nodded her head against him, already feeling drowsy. "Somehow I think it's going to work better this time," he added.

As tired as they both were, and now possessing the thing that had been missing when they'd each tried to sleep earlier that night – each other – they both drifted off almost immediately.

It felt like only a few minutes later when a loud noise pierced the silence. Kurt's alarm thundered unrelentingly in Jane's ears, and she wondered if he'd set it that way on purpose, to be sure they woke up. At that moment, she hated the noise more than any other sound she'd ever heard. Groaning, she tried to turn towards the offending sound, only to find herself pulled back down. For half a second, she felt panic shoot through her, before the details of where she was and who she was with came back to her.

"No," Kurt groaned, his arm clamped around her back. "Stay."

"I have to make it stop," she insisted groggily. "Before my head explodes."

Making a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a grumble, he leaned down to kiss her lightly on the top of her head, then whispered, "Don't move. I'll get it."

"Hurry up, Weller," she mumbled, pulling a pillow over her head and rolling onto her side, moaning incoherently. He moved as quickly as he could, but not quickly enough for Jane, whose head continued to feel like it was splitting open. "Make it stop," she called from under the pillow that was still clamped over her head. And then suddenly, blissfully, there was silence. Seconds later, he slipped back into the bed beside her, his arm threading around her waist to pull her closer, his other hand pulling the pillow off of her head.

"Let's try waking up again, without the part where our heads feel like they're exploding," he mumbled, pulling her back to the spot where they'd woken up a few minutes before, her head on his chest and her left arm and left leg draped over him.

"Okay, now let's skip the waking up part and go back to sleep," she grumbled, completely serious.

"Can't," he said, his voice sleepy but insistent. "Gotta get up and go save the world."

"Can't someone else save the world today?" she mumbled in pretend annoyance. She _knew_ they had to get up, but it was so tempting to stay exactly where they were and go back to sleep… or at least talk about doing it… even though she knew that it wasn't going to happen. Not that day, anyway.

"That's just how important we are, Jane," he told her quietly, kissing the tip of her nose. This made her smile despite her exhaustion and her annoyance.

"Speak for yourself," she told him, clamping her eyes shut. "I'm perfectly happy to be unimportant, so I can go back to sleep."

"Are you kidding me?" he asked her, pretending to be shocked. "You're the most important one of all." Even without opening her eyes, she scowled at him, and he couldn't help but laugh. Then she peeked her eyes open in order to see that she wasn't imagining it, he really was laughing at her.

"Covered in tattoos, some of them are site specific so I have to be out in the field, blah blah blah," she mumbled, which made Kurt laugh again.

"You are so funny when you're grumpy," he told her. "Besides, you _fought_ with me to go out in the field with us from the first day," he reminded her gently. "You wouldn't take no for an answer, as I recall." He was sitting up beside her now, having slipped out from under her once again.

"I take it back," she groaned, picking up the pillow beside her and putting it back over her head, right there on his shoulder. "I resign from the FBI, now let's go back to sleep."

Gently prying the pillow off of her face and tossing it away, he leaned his face down toward hers. "You're not allowed," he whispered to her, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. "I'm getting up, and so are you." He pressed his lips lightly to hers, leaning back before she even had time to react.

"You don't play fair," she told him, still scowling at him as she finally opened her eyes again.

"Come on," he grinned, leaning back and holding out his hand, offering to help her up. "Since I know that there's no food in this house, I'll buy you breakfast. Including a very large coffee."

"How do you know there's no food in the house?" she asked, trying to act offended but not even able to keep a straight face.

Shaking his head at her and doing his best not to laugh in her face, he tried to think of a clever response, but nothing came to mind.

"Okay, okay, that _was_ ridiculous," she admitted, now laughing along with him. Reaching out to take his hand, she let him pull her up until she was sitting upright.

"So, now that you're awake, do you accept my invitation?" he asked with a charming smile, sitting beside her.

"What invitation?" she asked. She knew it was something she should remember, but couldn't put her finger on it.

"Breakfast," he laughed.

"Oh… right. Of course," she grinned tiredly, shaking her head at herself. She was sitting cross legged, looking at him only a few inches away, and suddenly she glanced down and remembered what she was – and was not – wearing. Blushing immediately, but at the same time still too tired to think it important to do anything about it, she looked back at his, her expression suddenly shy again.

It was amusing for him to watch how her face changed when she remembered that she wasn't quite as dressed as she'd been when she'd shared a bed with him over the past few days, and while she blushed, it didn't appear that it actually bothered her. The fact that she didn't try to cover herself or even shift to obstruct his view of her at all told him quite a bit, and he was pleasantly surprised by it. _Not_ simply because she was beautiful – though she certainly was that. No, what really made him smile just then was that he knew that the fact that she didn't attempt to cover herself, even now that she wasn't deliriously tired, meant she was taking a risk and trusting him, even more than he had expected her to anytime soon.

Before they could move toward the edge of the bed, his hand landed on the bare skin of her lower back, and she shivered slightly. Not because his fingertips had found a small burn mark, which they had, but simply because she liked the feeling more than she had expected.

He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek sweetly, then said, "Come on, we'd better get up."

"You think what you're doing is encouraging me to move?" she asked with a grin.

Making a thoughtful face, he nodded slowly and then removed his hand from her back. "You're right," he admitted. "That probably wasn't helping."

"Dammit," she mumbled, "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Now get up," he grinned at her from only inches away. "You need coffee."

"Mmmmmm, that I do," she agreed, looking into his eyes without moving.

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head with a smile, he moved himself past her to the edge of the bed, standing up slowly and then turning around to face her. It was only then that she thought about what he was wearing – a t-shirt and sweatpants – and the fact that he kept talking about going to work.

"Is that what you're wearing to the office?" she asked in amusement, turning and scooting herself forward slowly towards the edge of the bed.

He made a face at her and replied, "Actually, no, I brought something slightly more work appropriate." When he glanced over his shoulder at his bag, from which he'd retrieved his phone when the offending alarm had been ringing.

"Wow," she said slowly as she took the hand he offered to help her to a standing position. "So you had this _planned_ … staying over here."

"Well," he shrugged, "if you'd kicked me out, I would've gone back home… but it's good to be prepared. This way I don't need to go back home before we go to work." Her hand was still in his, and he ran his thumb over the back of it.

"I have trouble believing that you would have left last night," she said quietly, taking a step toward him, which closed all of the empty space between them. His arms automatically wound around her waist as she stood so close to him. He felt overwhelmed – in a good way – by the amount of her bare skin he suddenly felt again the skin of his arms. The feeling was something like a head rush, and all he could do was pull her tighter. "Yeah… so do I…" he admitted. "Unless that was what you really wanted, and you were really okay. Which… you _weren't_ , I might add."

"But let me guess. There was _nothing_ I could have said that would have convinced you to leave," she grinned.

"Well…" he grinned. "I might have gone as far as the couch…" She smiled easily, leaning her face into his neck and sighing tiredly.

"Alright," he said, clearing his throat, "I'm going downstairs so you won't be distracted, and you can take a shower and get ready. I need to investigate exactly what sort of empty kitchen situation you have happening down there, anyway," he told her. Jane just nodded, wishing that he didn't have to let go of her for those things to happen.

He turned back around to look at her from the door, noticing that she was just standing and watching _him._ "Stop distracting me, Weller," she told him, to which he grinned and walked through the doorway.

"You're so bossy," he called over his shoulder.

"And you must like it," she called back as she heard him walk down the stairs. As she dragged herself to the bathroom, she couldn't help but smile. With him around, after all, it was hard to stop.

By the time she showed up downstairs, he'd done a complete investigation of the contents of her kitchen. Not that it took very long, because a "complete investigation" went startlingly quickly. After pulling four unidentified and suspicious looking containers out of the refrigerator, all of which appeared to be growing mold, he discovered two ice cube trays in the freezer, only one of which had ice in it. The pantry contained no more than 10 random non-perishable food items, though nothing that could be put together to make an actual _meal_.

He shook his head with a sigh. The only "useful" food item he'd found in her whole kitchen was coffee, which he supposed, knowing Jane, shouldn't surprise him. There was nothing that could be done about the past, but there was a lot that could – and would – be different from now on, and the thought was comforting.

When he made his way back out into the main living area, she was walking down the stairs. She looked tired, but she was awake, and as far as he was concerned, she looked beautiful.

"Your turn," she told him with a smile. "And then breakfast."

"Right," he said with a nod, brushing past her closer than was necessary at the bottom of the stairs. She just smiled at him, shaking her head. "Don't fall asleep before I get back," he told her with a grin, already halfway up the stairs.

"No promises," she called back. "Hurry up!"

She sat down on the couch, a smile still on her face from their exchange, and looked around. Even though she was currently alone in the room, her whole safe house seemed different. Not so empty. Thinking back over the past few days, she couldn't help but wonder if she had imagined it all. After all, there was just so much _good_ in her memories of those recent days, and she wasn't used to that.

That was when she remembered something Kurt had said to her before they'd left for Clearfield, back at _his_ apartment.

 _"_ _It's going to take a while to balance it all out, but I think it's possible. Now you just need a whole lot of things to go right, for a change..."_

 _I'm already off to a good start_ , she thought, unable to help but feel surprised. She'd just assumed that this feeling – happiness – would continue to allude her. And yes, there had been _plenty_ of times when one or both of them had broken down over the past few days. It was really to be expected, with all of the baggage they both carried with them. But that was the thing – even the memories that stung a little weren't really _bad_. Not in the way that so many of her other memories were. Besides, every time one of them had been upset, it had been a chance for the other one to jump in and comfort them, and having someone who was ready and willing to do _that_ was a completely new and completely amazing thing, as far as she was concerned. Simply the fact that she wasn't in this place alone – physically _or_ emotionally – meant everything to her.

She looked around the room slowly, almost as though she was seeing it for the first time. No, there wasn't much here. After having everything that meant anything to her taken away, this time she'd been careful not to make the mistake of personalizing a place that she had known all too well wasn't hers, and was only temporary.

 _I'm only here until the FBI no longer has any use for me_. She had told herself this so many times, it was almost embedded in her brain. Now, of course, she allowed herself to hope that this wasn't the case. She didn't know what the future held, and nothing was certain, of course, but she allowed herself to believe that if nothing else, Kurt would fight for her. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was a starting point.

Unconsciously, her hand went to the small pendant around her neck, pulling it out from under her shirt and pressing it between her fingers.

 _The thing is, if I can get this back_ , she thought, meaning the necklace, _then maybe there's hope…_ After all, that small piece of metal was the most precious thing she owned. It had been before, and it was once again, now. Looking around, she imagined her sketches and the other small things that had made her safe house feel almost like a real home before everything had gone wrong and she'd lost it all. For the first time, she allowed herself to imagine a future that did not involve sacrificing herself to take down Sandstorm. The idea that she would help the FBI defeat them and then she would go on with her life was beyond what she'd allowed herself to hope for in the past.

Yes, she had a long way to go to get to any kind of "normal," if she would _ever_ manage to get there, and it was daunting and a little bit scary to let herself start all over again, after everything, knowing how much it hurt to lose it all. Still, suddenly she couldn't help but feel like this time would be different. Besides, she had everything that was _really_ important already.

Well, except food, of course. But she had a feeling that Kurt wouldn't let her kitchen remain empty for long. Besides, if she had him – which she _did_ – she didn't really care if she ever got to "normal."

Looking up when she heard a noise, she saw him coming down the stairs, clean and dressed for work and watching her with a smile.

 _Yes,_ she thought, _there's definitely hope._


	39. Not How It Was Supposed To Go

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

By the time they had stopped for breakfast, which, because of the lateness of the hour, they didn't have the luxury of lingering over, and then made it to the office, it was after 8:00am. While for many people this was still early, for anyone on Weller's team, this was a noticeably late arrival time. Luckily for them, he was the boss. However, it didn't mean they didn't get knowing looks from the rest of the team. The fact that they walked in with matching large cups of coffee didn't exactly make things look coincidental, either. Not that the fact that something was happening between them was a _secret_ , of course, especially after the holiday party and then the commonly known fact, at least among their five person team, that they'd spent the weekend together.

Really, knowing looks were going to be a given.

It was Wednesday morning, December twenty-eighth, smack in the middle of the week after Christmas. While retail stores were generally busy that week, with shoppers exchanging unwanted Christmas presents, many other sectors of the economy were quieter than usual. While there were a higher than usual number of agents taking time off that week, even at the NYO, it was not necessarily a slow week for the FBI. As always, it depended on what was going on around the country, foremost in New York City and the surrounding areas.

So far that week, they'd been lucky. He'd imagined that he would have had to field calls while out in Clearfield, but his phone had been blissfully quiet. The idea that he would have been able to take several days off in a row and not have to manage a crisis of any kind remotely, or be called back in early, was almost unheard of. It had seemed too good to be true, which left him wondering how long his luck would hold out. Within half an hour or their arrival in the office on Wednesday, he had his answer – his lucky streak was officially over.

Patterson had cracked another tattoo, which, after her long and complicated explanation, sent them searching for a lead, one that they ended up chasing across half the city before finally apprehending him in an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn. It certainly wasn't the ideal way to spend a day that followed a night of only a few hours of sleep, of course, but both Jane and Kurt had been in the situation of working of far less than enough sleep before – Jane mostly because of her frequent nightmares, and Kurt because of his tendency to just generally push himself too hard when it came to work – so it wasn't anything they couldn't handle.

They'd both stepped outside, along with Reade and Zapata, while the techs collected evidence inside the warehouse. They were waiting for Patterson to check in with them about a suspicion of hers, after she looked deeper into the connections held by the suspect they'd just apprehended. After that, they would decide whether they needed to continue their investigation elsewhere immediately, or head back to the office. Reade and Zapata had walked towards the far corner of the building, and appeared to be in the midst of a heated argument. Meanwhile, one of the techs came to the door and told Kurt that there was something he should see, just as Jane's phone began to ring.

"Go ahead and take it," Kurt told her as Jane frowned at her phone. She nodded distractedly, not looking up as he walked inside, waiting until she was ten feet farther along the outer wall of the building in the opposite direction of Zapata and Reade before she answered it.

Jane didn't recognize the phone number, which didn't necessarily mean anything, but it was always a cause for suspicion. With the past that she had, she couldn't be too cautious. "Hello?" she said into the phone.

It turned out that the call had been a wrong number – or that was what the caller _said_ , anyway – and she turned around, shaking her head, walking back toward the door to catch up with Kurt. Before she could take more than a few steps, however, a thundering noise echoed through the warehouse beside her. The sound of splintering metal, wood and glass could be heard from inside, though the wall beside them remained intact. For a split second, Jane froze in her tracks, and Reade and Zapata spun around and looked at her in fear as time seemed to stand still, after which all three of them started running full speed toward the door.

Jane made it there first, having been the closest, and what she saw as she rounded the corner took her breath away. Something in the far corner of the large, open building must have exploded, because there was now a significant portion of the two nearby walls missing in that corner, debris everywhere, and a large pile of rubble where the walls had once been. The small group of techs, each with various degrees of injuries, were now scrambling madly in what seemed like every direction. Jane simply couldn't take in all of the details at once to know where to run to first.

 _Where's Kurt?_ It was the only thing she was interested in, and she simply couldn't process anything else until she knew that one fact.

She'd frozen in place about fifteen feet inside the doorway, her eyes darting around madly, not seeing Kurt anywhere. Sprinting toward the pile that seemed to have been created when the explosion was set off, she saw that one of the techs was trapped under a large metal beam, which pinned down his leg. Several others were attempting to assess his condition, crowding around him.

"Did someone call 911?" It was Zapata, suddenly standing beside Jane and yelling to the techs. They looked around at each other, shaking their heads, so Zapata took out her phone and did so immediately.

The next thing Jane knew, Zapata had grabbed onto her arm and was dragging her in another direction. It turned out that that direction was towards Kurt, with Reade close behind them. To the trio's horror, Kurt lay on the ground, appearing to have been flung from the immediate area of debris by the force of the blast. He didn't seem to have hit the wall, since he was closer to the section of the wall that was still standing, but from his position, it seemed possible that he'd hit the ground hard. He was unconscious, and there was a growing puddle on blood beneath him. Jane fell on her knees beside him, Reade and Zapata standing behind her in horror.

Using her fingertips to check his pulse, Jane was relieved to know that Kurt was alive. Still, he was unconscious and bleeding from somewhere that was not immediately apparent, and it was impossible to tell the severity from just looking at him. She grabbed his hand and began saying his name, tears streaming down her cheeks.

In an unspoken agreement, Reade went to the door of the building to wait for the EMTs and direct them inside, while Zapata stood behind Jane. "The ambulance is on its way, Jane," she told the other woman, who barely registered that Zapata was even speaking to her. "They should be here in just a few minutes."

Jane was frantic, of course. _This can't be happening. This_ _ **isn't**_ _happening. Please be okay. Please. I can't… Please…._ The string of pleas became like a chant in her head as she focused solely on the man in front of her, who still had shown no signs of life other than a weak pulse. The scrambling in the rest of the room, the shouts, the calls for them to evacuate until they could determine whether it was actually safe for them all to be there… She heard none of it.

When the EMTs finally arrived, it felt as though it had been hours. In reality, it had been about five minutes. Zapata had to pry Jane away from Weller, forcing her to let go of his hand so that they could assess him and get him onto a stretcher. More agents were already arriving on the scene, with even more were en route. This was the biggest disaster they'd faced since the ill-fated Sandstorm raid, and the fact that the Assistant Director had been seriously injured left everyone else scrambling extra frantically to figure out what had happened. Zapata and Reade had hurriedly filled Patterson in, and she was already following up on what little information they had.

When the EMTs were ready to take Kurt to the hospital a few minutes later, Jane asked to ride along in the ambulance. One of them looked skeptical, as if he was about to say no, but a blonde woman in an EMT uniform, who seemed to be the stern man's partner, looked at her kindly and agreed.

"Thank you," Jane replied, flooded with relief.

"Let's go," the man said sternly.

Jane glanced back at Zapata, who was watching the scene, biting her lip. "We'll meet you there, Jane," she told her, to which Jane nodded and then started toward the door, trailing behind the EMTs and an unconscious Kurt on a stretcher.

The ride to the hospital was _endless._ Jane sat in a seat crammed in along the side of the back section of the ambulance, clutching Kurt's hand as if for dear life. She couldn't even find words to mumble in her head, the ache in her chest was so intense. All she could do was hold onto him, leaning as far toward the stretcher on which Kurt was secured as possible. If she'd thought she could have gotten away with taking off her seatbelt, she would have moved closer to him, but it was obvious that the jolting of the ambulance would have thrown her against a wall sooner than later.

At the hospital, she'd been directed to the waiting room and told to do the very thing she couldn't bear to do – _wait_ – while they assessed his condition.

"Are you family?" they'd asked her.

She'd just shook her head sadly, knowing that she would've had better access to him if she _had_ been family. "No," she whispered, what little strength she had felt. The nurse she'd been speaking to looked at her kindly.

"Alright, honey, I know it's hard, but try and relax. We'll take good care of him, and we'll let you know when we know something," she'd told her. Jane just nodded, sinking into the chair behind her, leaning over until her elbows dug into her knees, her head in her hands. She already knew from looking at him, from seeing just how serious his injuries had _looked_ that it was going to be quite a while before she could see him. _Too long_. She didn't have any idea what was wrong, of course, but based on the fact that he'd been unconscious and the amount of blood around him, it seemed very serious. She winced at the thought, struggling to take in enough oxygen to keep _herself_ breathing.

This was _not_ how it was supposed to go.

And yet, she'd always known what a large part danger played in their jobs. Kurt had been lucky enough to come out of dangerous situations unscathed – or close to it – many, many times. How many times had they almost died, since they'd known each other alone, both separately and together? How many times had he been shot at or _nearly_ blown up? Too many to count, even in the time that Jane had known him.

Yes, danger being a part of the job was a given, especially considering how often Kurt seemed to remove his vest and walk into danger with his hands in the air as a sign of good faith. _Good faith._ The man used good faith when dealing with seemingly all manner of individuals who were not necessarily acting under that same pretense. It really was a wonder that he was still alive. It was amazing they hadn't ended up here, like this, before now.

Of course, that didn't make Jane feel any better. Because they _were_ here now… and she didn't know what was going on or whether it was going to be okay.

She felt someone sit down beside her, then a faint sigh. It was as if it was very far away, even though she knew that it had come from the chair beside her. It didn't matter who it was or what they wanted. Unless someone was coming to talk to her about Kurt, she didn't care what anyone had to say.

"Jane," came the whispered voice. It was Reade. She didn't move, just remained hunched over, attempting to keep her breathing steady. "Have they told you anything?"

At that question she raised her head slowly to look at him. He had known that she was distraught, but he was genuinely surprised at just _how_ upset she looked when she slowly looked up at him. Her face was blotchy, and the skin around her eyes was red and puffy, making her distress all the more obvious.

For a few seconds they just looked at each other, before Jane realized that she had yet to answer his question. Shaking her head sadly, she looked down once again. "No," she replied, her voice hoarse from lack of use and possibly from the heavy dust that had hung in the air at the warehouse after the explosion. At that moment, the state of her throat was the absolute last thing on her mind.

The more he looked at her, the more Reade couldn't help but notice that Jane was in rough shape. Besides being able to see that she'd been crying – which he'd known already – he noticed that her face was smeared with dirt, as were her clothes, and she had what appeared to be quite a bit of Weller's blood on the legs of her pants, the knees especially, where she'd knelt beside him, as well as on her hands, and now, thanks to the way she'd been sitting, also smeared on her face.

While Reade and Zapata had also been on the scene, they had gone back to the office after they'd finished there, since their boss being rushed to the hospital had sent everyone into a bit of a tailspin. Pellington had demanded an in-person briefing _immediately_. As it was, they'd had to speak for the fact that Jane wasn't there as well. Since they all stored extras of everything at work, for this or any other emergency, the two of them had had a minute to change. Therefore, the difference between the state that Jane was in, compared to the way Reade looked, was dramatic.

"Hey, you should go wash up a little," he told her gently. "You've got blood… all over you." Jane's eyes widened as she looked down at her hands and arms, which she noticed for the first time were indeed covered in blood. Still, she looked around with concern, then shook her head.

"No, I don't want to go anywhere," she told him.

"Jane, it'll only take a minute. I'll stay here and wait for word, in case they come out to say anything. Please?" he asked gently. "When they let you in to see him, you don't want to have blood all over you. They'll make you wash up before you let you in there, anyway… They've got to keep the place sanitary, you know, with all the sick people around…" Reade and Jane hadn't always been on good terms, but with what Reade had been through lately, he'd been far more sympathetic to Jane than he used to be. She didn't know why, of course, only that he was much kinder to her than he had been when they'd first met. Between his new, gentler manner and the fact that his words, while frustrating, actually did make a lot of sense, Reade was able to convince Jane to go into the bathroom nearby and at least wash Kurt's blood off her hands.

He'd watched the wheels turning in her head as she considered what he'd said, then, to his relief, he'd seen her nod her head slowly. She had stood up and walked around the corner, following the signs that said Restrooms and disappearing from sight.

Jane found the women's room empty, and was slightly shocked by her own reflection. Reade had not been kidding – she really did have blood all over her. There wasn't much she could do about the state of her clothes, which were caked with both blood and dirt, but at least she could wash her hands and face, and scrub what she could off of her forearms.

Looking at herself in the mirror again after she'd cleaned herself up, she begged for this to be some sort of nightmare. There was simply no way that this could actually be _happening._ At least, she truly hoped not. Still, since she didn't immediately wake up from the dream that she'd hoped that she was having when she insisted to herself that she should, she sighed heavily and hurried back out to the waiting room, where Reade was sitting and staring at the TV screen mounted in the corner near the ceiling.

"Anything?" Jane asked anxiously.

He just shook his head, hating to have to disappoint her, but thinking that no news was better than bad news when you were in a hospital waiting room. He kept that thought to himself, however.

"I asked Patterson to have an agent bring you a change of clothes," he told her kindly. She just nodded dejectedly, assuming the position she'd been in almost as long as she'd been waiting – almost two hours already, in total – her head in her hands, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Thanks," she mumbled, honestly not caring what she was wearing. It didn't matter. None of it mattered, not if something happened to Kurt.

"We have pretty much every agent working on this, Jane," he told her quietly, hoping that she was listening. "We're going to find out what happened and find whoever's responsible." She just nodded weakly, knowing that this was supposed to make her feel better. Suddenly all she could think of was Patterson, that day so long ago when they'd talked in the locker room, when she'd been dismayed to learn that catching David's killer hadn't brought her closure. The blonde's words that day echoed in her ears.

 _I thought that if... if I... solved this, and if I found his killer, I would feel... uh... I... But I feel the same. Just... empty. Like solving this didn't change anything.  
_

She knew that Reade was trying to reassure her that they would get to the bottom of what happened, and that that was supposed to help… but she also knew that the _only_ thing that was going to help her was Kurt. She needed Kurt to be okay. After all, how in the world would she go on otherwise? There were too many reasons why she needed him, and none of them could be described in words. She felt them all, however, and at the moment those feelings were threatening to crush her.

Reade knew that there was nothing he could say that would make her feel any better, so he simply sat there, feeling useless but knowing that he was doing the only thing he could do by keeping her company. All he could do was to make sure that she was physically okay. He shuddered to think about how Jane would cope – or _not_ cope, to be more accurate – if Weller…

 _No,_ he told himself quickly. _Don't._

Time ticked by slowly, and he got the feeling that while he would probably be relieved by Zapata or Patterson or another agent and sent home at some point, there would be no telling Jane to leave.

"I'm going to get some coffee. You want some?" he asked, standing up and stretching.

Lifting her head out of her hands, she looked up at him wearily, shaking her head. "No, thanks," she whispered.

The team had seen Jane through a lot since she'd appeared in Times Square, but as much as it had seemed like they'd seen her at her worst, Reade couldn't help but think that they'd been wrong. _This_ had to be her worst.

"You want _anything_?" he asked, knowing that the answer would be no, but wishing that he could do something for her.

Instead of a smile, she gave him a pained look. "No, thanks, Reade," she whispered.

"I'll be right back," he told her quietly, following the signs for the cafeteria.

Jane had been glad for Reade's company, but she also felt a certain kind of relief when he left. Even though she was far from alone in the waiting room, everyone there were strangers, and no one seemed concerned with her enough to engage her in any kind of conversation. For this she was grateful. Granted, her tattoos made her stand out, which meant that she could feel plenty of people _staring_ at her, but really, she was used to that. At that moment, she didn't care who stared at her, as long as they didn't _talk_ to her. After all, if they stared, she could simply close her eyes and pretend that they weren't there. She'd had lots of practice at doing that. If she waited long enough, the people who were staring would go away, or they would stop. Either one was fine with her.

Reade returned from the cafeteria and pushed a paper cup into her hands. "Here, take it," he told her, gently but firmly. "You need _something_ in you." She put her hands around the coffee, grateful for the warmth of the cup, and for the fact that Reade had ignored her when she'd said she didn't want coffee. It shouldn't have surprised her too much, she supposed, since he _was_ an FBI agent and it _was_ the first time she'd ever turned down coffee before. It made sense that he was astute enough to realize that she hadn't actually meant it when she'd said she didn't want any – even though even _she_ hadn't realized that this was the case.

She nodded, opening her eyes enough to look at the cup she was now holding. "Thanks," she whispered. He sat down in the chair beside her once again, handing her a bag of some kind of plain crackers as well.

"This, too," he said simply, to which she nodded and put it at the floor by her feet. Coffee first. After that, she'd see. At the moment she wasn't sure how much she could push her stomach without making herself throw up.

They sat in silence, time ticking by without Jane noticing. She drank her coffee slowly, barely tasting it. Mostly, she felt the warmth of it as she drank, appreciating it at least for that.

She was lost in her thoughts – or, more accurately, the swirling haze of her mind which was mostly absent of thoughts – when she heard hushed voices beside her and she slowly looked up. Patterson was sitting down on the other side of Reade, their heads close together as they talked quietly. Jane looked back down, since they didn't seem to be talking to her. It was nice that the blonde was there, of course, but it didn't change anything, and it didn't do anything to make her worry less about Kurt.

It had been _hours_ – she didn't even know how many, any more – and they _still_ hadn't heard anything. She was beginning to feel the urge to grab the next doctor she saw and shake them violently until news about Kurt's condition spilled out of them. After all, surely they knew _something_ by now. Hadn't they been working on him for hours? He was the damn Assistant Director of the FBI, for God's sake! Weren't they going to _do something for him?_

 _Calm down,_ the voice in her head told her evenly. _Getting worked up isn't going to help._

 _Neither is staying calm_ , she thought bitterly, feeling tears threatening suddenly behind her eyes. She'd done a good job of reigning them in so far, since they'd arrived at the hospital, but she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to make that claim. It suddenly felt as if their reappearance was imminent.

There was movement beside her, and she looked up quickly, realizing with disappointment that it was only Reade standing up, as Patterson scooted over into the chair beside her. "Thanks, Patterson," he was saying. "You need anything?"

She shook her head, smiling at him weakly. "Nope, I'm good. Zapata will be here in a few more hours. You, _please_ , go home and sleep for a little bit. We'll be okay here."

Reade just nodded his thanks, sighing heavily. "Alright, I'll see you both later. Jane?" Reade said, looking at Jane. She didn't want to, but she forced herself to look up at him, the offending tears that she'd been so hoping to avoid becoming closer and closer to reality as she did. "Weller's tough. It's going to take more than just an explosion to stop him." She nodded, not trusting her voice, and feeling herself flinch when the look on his face softened. She'd never seen Reade look so worried, even if it was about _her_ and not about the person that he should actually be worried about. "He'll be okay," he added, looking as though he wanted to say more, but stopping there, at a loss for words.

 _He can't know that,_ she thought miserably, feeling herself on the verge again – of tears, of losing her composure completely, of losing her mind... of losing _everything._

Somehow she kept the panic she felt inside from spilling out. Nodding at him, all she could manage was a weak, "Thanks, Reade." Hesitating, he looked down at the two women one more time and only after seeing Patterson's encouraging partial smile did he then turn and walk away.

Patterson was leaning forwards, matching Jane's position, and Jane didn't dare look at her. She could already feel tears leaking out of her eyes, and she knew that looking at Patterson, the most emotional one of all of them, would only make it worse. For her part, Patterson didn't know what the right thing to do was, but she made conversation regardless.

"Zapata wanted to relieve Reade," she said quietly, leaning her shoulder against Jane's, "but I insisted that it was my turn next. I told her to either get some rest, or keep working, and she could come and see Weller in a few hours, when he's awake." Jane just nodded, feeling her tears betraying her and disobeying her order _not_ to show themselves. "He's going to be okay, Jane," Patterson whispered. Again, Jane kept her face straight ahead, which ended up being aimed toward the floor because she was hunched forwards, trying to deny the fact that she was now definitely crying again. She knew that Patterson meant well, but she wished that she would stop trying to reassure her. It wouldn't have been completely fine with her if Patterson would have just left, in fact.

Jane tried to sip what was left of the coffee that Reade had brought her, holding it in her left hand, but her throat felt like it was closing up and she found it almost impossible to choke down even a little bit more. It had gotten cold, anyway, and she put it on the floor by her feet. Once again she leaned forward, putting her head in her hands and pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes until she saw pinpricks of light in the darkness. They swam and swirled in front of her, telling her that she was pressing her hands too hard against her eyes, but she didn't care. _So what?_ she asked herself. _It doesn't matter_.

 _Hey, don't be like that,_ she heard a voice in her head tell her. _Kurt's voice._ She'd thought she'd started to get herself under control, but her tears were now back full force, and her breathing was no longer under any semblance of control.

Patterson watched in dismay as Jane seemed to crumble before her eyes. She pulled her left arm around Jane's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. It was slightly awkward, but if anyone on the team was going to be the one to hug Jane, it was Patterson. "Jane, it's going to be okay," she whispered. "He's going to be okay." Her words sounded hollow even to her, however. After all, they'd all been with her when David had been killed, and they'd all been around when Borden had been exposed as the Sandstorm mole. It wasn't as though they didn't already know that things could go very, very wrong – and not just theoretically. No, there was no guarantee that Kurt would be okay.

Slowly realizing that, if nothing else, she didn't _want_ to sob in a hospital waiting room, Jane forced herself to calm down. It took a few minutes, but she eventually regained her composure, still breathing hard but at least feeling her tears dry up – for the moment, anyway.

"Oh, Jane," Patterson said, reaching for a small duffle bag by her feet. "I brought you a change of clothes. Another agent was supposed to bring it by earlier, but… well… the office is a bit of a zoo at the moment. Sorry it took so long." She held the strap of the bag up for Jane to take. It took a few seconds before Jane even noticed, since she was still trying to avoid looking at Patterson, but she did slowly take it, sighing heavily.

"Thanks," she said in a flat voice, devoid of nearly all emotion. It was how she felt, by that point. _Empty._

"Jane… go ahead and change," Patterson told her. Jane looked around worriedly, feeling exactly as concerned as she had when Reade had told her to go and wash up.

"No, I should stay here, in case…" Jane trailed off distractedly. She _knew_ that the logical thing to do was to go and change out of her current, filthy clothes, but she didn't want to move from the spot where she sat. What if there was important news, after all?

"I can stay here in case anyone comes out to tell us what's going on…" Patterson assured her. It was only then that Jane began to consider the option of leaving her spot in the waiting room to go back to the bathroom to change her clothes. "Besides," Patterson added, "I'm sure you'll be more comfortable. And when you get in to see Weller, you know he'll freak out if he sees you covered in blood. No matter how injured _he_ is, he'll be worried about _you_."

It was the kind of thing that Patterson would have said to Weller to tease him, except that at the same time, it was the truth. Both Jane and Weller had always been far more concerned about the other than about themselves, even back before they even realized it.

Jane smiled just a tiny, miniscule smile, but a smile nonetheless. Patterson was right, after all, and Jane knew it. Kurt would probably lecture her in annoyance if he saw her at his bedside in the filthy clothes she was currently wearing. Her smile turned to a pain in her chest a few seconds later, however, when she realized that she didn't know if, by the time she finally got to see him, he'd been in a state in which he'd even be able to _notice_ what she was wearing.

 _Think positive_ , she told herself. The words were hollow as they echoed in her head, but she was trying.

Standing up stiffly once again, she looked back at Patterson over her shoulder as the blonde sat her purse on Jane's chair, to save her place, and then smiled at her encouragingly. "Go ahead," she whispered, and Jane nodded, turning obediently and heading towards the bathroom around the corner.

As she waited for Jane to return, Patterson looked around impatiently, beginning to feel like really, it had been long enough and they should have heard something _long_ ago. After all, Weller had been admitted just after five o'clock, if she was remembering correctly, and now it was nearly midnight. Surely they should be able to tell them _something_ by now…

Jane walked back around the corner, and Patterson swiftly moved her purse so that Jane could sit down again. She _looked_ more refreshed, even if she didn't feel it, Patterson thought. Jane dropped the bag beside her chair and resumed her former position, hunched forwards, appearing lost in thought, grateful when Patterson didn't attempt to engage her in conversation.

Suddenly, there was an olive skinned woman in a white coat standing in front of them, holding a clipboard and looking hesitantly at the two women. Patterson was the first to notice her, as she cleared her throat, and she nudged Jane in the side.

"Are you two waiting for Mr. Weller?" the woman asked kindly. Jane's head shot up despite her exhaustion, not even having noticed Patterson's attempt to get her attention, and the two of them stood up nervously.

"Yes, we are," Patterson replied for both of them. Jane's throat had gone dry, and she couldn't bring herself to speak. Her eyes burned and her head was throbbing, which was making her slightly dizzy. She silently begged the doctor in front of them to spit out whatever she had to say quickly.

The woman nodded at them. "I'm Dr. Davis. Mr. Weller sustained substantial injuries…" Jane heard her say. She tried desperately to focus on the doctor's words, but after 'substantial injuries' it was difficult for her to keep her mind from shrieking. When she tuned back in, she heard the doctor saying, "…a few broken ribs from the impact, and quite a few lacerations. While he did lose some blood due to a shrapnel wound on his shoulder, his blood loss was not enough to necessitate a transfusion. Our main concern right now is that he remains unconscious. Until he wakes up, we won't know exactly the complete extent of his injuries…"

She paused and looked up at the two women, at which time Patterson interjected, "How long is that going to take?" Despite her extensive knowledge of science, and even the 'better than basic' medical knowledge that she had accumulated over the years in her job, when faced with one of her own in this situation, she was finding it hard to think rationally.

Dr. Davis smiled patiently at Patterson. "I wish I could tell you," she told said. "It just depends on him." The two women stood in front of the doctor silently. Jane was just trying to focus on breathing in and out, which was almost proving to be too much for her. It wasn't _bad_ news, but it wasn't _good_ news either. It was more _wait and see_ , which she hated.

"When can we see him?" Jane asked, finally finding her voice, though she had to work to push the words out.

"One of you can go back at a time," Dr. Davis replied. "Once he wakes up, and we can assess his condition, it's possible that he could have more than one visitor." Jane almost gasped with relief at the thought of being allowed to see him, and Patterson nudged her.

"Go, Jane," she instructed her. "I'll wait here."

Turning gratefully toward the other woman, Jane said, "Thanks… but it's okay, Patterson, you don't have to wait. I'll be fine. You should go home and get some sleep. I _really_ appreciate your keeping me company, but it's late. Besides, there's going to be a lot of work to do after this."

Patterson nodded. "My team is already on it, trust me," she told Jane. "But are you sure? It's no trouble." Really, she was worried about Weller, _of course_ , but she was also worried about Jane. _But then again, if they're willing to let her sit with Weller, there's absolutely no way Jane's going to leave his side._ She admitted hesitantly that Jane should be okay, at least for a few hours.

"Okay, Jane, if you're sure you're okay… but promise you'll call one of us if you need something? _Anything?_ " Patterson asked, looking at Jane hesitantly and trying to figure out if she actually _would_. Jane was always impossible when it came to asking for help, after all.

Jane nodded tiredly, realizing that this sounded a lot like a promise Kurt had forced her to make on more than one occasion. And because she would have agree to almost anything to get to see Kurt at that moment, she whispered, "Okay." Patterson stepped forward and hugged her without a second thought.

"I'll see you later, okay? We'll be back in the morning, at some point," Patterson promised as she moved back quickly, realizing that she didn't actually know whether Jane had wanted to be hugged or not. She didn't look upset with her, however. Or, more accurately, not any more upset than she'd already looked, at least.

They nodded at each other one more time, and Jane whispered, "Thanks, Patterson," before following Dr. Davis down the hall and around the corner. Everything around Jane was a blur, and she had to struggle to focus on the one particular white coat that she was supposed to be following. Finally, the doctor came to a stop at a particular door, putting her hand on the handle and then stopping before she turned the handle.

"He's in rough shape, but so far his vitals are strong," she said kindly, noting Jane's obvious distress, and wanting to prepare her as much as she could. Jane just nodded, and the doctor gave her one more smile before opening the door quietly to reveal Kurt, on the bed that took up most of the small room.

Jane stepped forward, and as soon as she was clear of the door, the doctor closed it behind her. She stopped in her tracks, her heart in her throat and her hand over her mouth. There was Kurt, hooked up to what looked to Jane like too many machines, none of which she was familiar with, and one of which beeped quietly beside the bed. There was room for a single chair up against the side of the bed, and besides that, it appeared that there was barely room for the staff to maneuver around their patient. Jane couldn't help but wonder if the room had formerly been used as a closet, it was so small. Still, it was better than if it had been a room with more than one patient, even if it would have been bigger. Just then, Jane didn't want to share space with anyone else.

Walking forward slowly, her eyes never leaving Kurt, she settled herself cross legged in the chair that sat on the right side of the bed, near his head, leaning forward slowly until her hands sat carefully on the blanket, just beside him. Then, even more slowly, she took his left hand in both of hers. Though she tried her best to hold them in, she could feel tears leaking down her cheeks again. She didn't even try to stop them, keeping his hand between hers, and within minutes she was sure that she looked like as much of a mess as she felt. Still, it didn't matter. She much preferred to be here beside him than to have still been in the waiting room.

At some point, the door opened quietly behind her, and though she heard it, Jane didn't make any move to acknowledge that she had. A shadow fell across the bed as a figure came closer, and a soft voice said, "Hi, sweetie, my name is Natalie. I'm Mr. Weller's nurse tonight. Are you his wife?"

Jane looked up then, surprised at the question. _Well, it's a reasonable assumption, considering how you're acting_ , the voice in her head pointed out.

"No," Jane said simply, shaking her head and silently begging the nurse – Natalie – not to ask any follow up questions. Because what could she tell her? What _was_ she to him? What was he to her? If someone had straight out asked her – _What is he to you?_ – she had no idea how she would have answered. After all, he wasn't her husband or her boyfriend or any easy label. She wasn't even sure he'd say they were friends. Not yet.

 _You're kidding, right?_ the voice demanded. _Of course he'd say you're friends._ But just then everything seemed so complicated, and her head was pounding so hard, she simply couldn't accept this.

 _No, we're just… nothing,_ she thought sadly.

 _You've never been nothing to each other,_ the voice in her head reminded her kindly. _You_ _ **know**_ _that that's not true._

 _I don't know anything anymore_ , she thought, her eyes having drifted from Natalie back to Kurt.

Natalie was talking again, Jane realized. "Do you need anything, honey?" she asked her kindly. "You look like you're having a rough night." Jane cleared her throat, trying to reply, but ended up simply shaking her head, her eyes back on Kurt once again.

"Alright, well if you need me, just press that button there, okay?" Natalie asked. Her voice had grown even gentler as she'd watched Jane.

 _I must look like even more of a mess than I thought,_ Jane realized, though she didn't really care enough to do anything about it.

At the moment, as it had been for hours now, it was all she could do to keep breathing in and out. In most situations, even without memories of past experience to help tell her what to do, Jane could usually figure out the best way to handle herself. But now, here, watching Kurt lying unconscious, her mind was blank. She held onto his hand and simply waited, trying not to think. Because when she _did_ think, the only thing that came to her mind was how in the world was she going to survive if he didn't wake up?

It was a horrible thought, absolutely unthinkable. How was she supposed to imagine her life without him? There had never, in the part of her life that she could remember, as Jane, been a day when she didn't know him, after all. She understood in theory that most people had only a very few people – their families – who they knew every day of their lives. Some family members didn't even fall into that category, even. By that over simplified definition, Kurt – and only Kurt – _was_ her family. It wasn't that simple, of course, but maybe it explained why she felt the way she did.

And so, given that painful possibility as the only thought that kept pounding in her head, she attempted not to think at all. It didn't work, but she tried her best.

Slowly, the last of her adrenaline drained out of her and she felt her eyes beginning to close. She was hunched forward, and had to keep catching herself before she fell forward towards the bed as she began to fall asleep sitting up. Finally, realizing that it was hopeless to continue to fight it, she leaned forward, letting her head fall against her left arm on the edge of the bed beside Kurt's leg. Within seconds her eyes closed, her arms sticking out from under her at such an angle that even now, as she slept, she held onto Kurt's hand in both of her own.


	40. Just You and Me

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: I know, I know, you guys… it was mean of me to stop where I did. It wasn't on purpose, I swear! I got the last chapter done and posted right before I went on my Blindspot adventure in NYC with my friend_ _ **MonkeyPajamas**_ _(if you are on Twitter, we posted lots of pictures, most of which are tagged with the hashtag BlindspotAdventure). We visited a lot of filming locations, including the spot in Times Square where they filmed the beginning of the pilot. It was_ _ **amazing**_ _. Anyway, I'm really sorry for the delay in getting this chapter done, but I'm back home now and I'm going to get Jane and Kurt through December – hopefully before_ _ **we**_ _get through March! I was going to say that I wrote an extra-long chapter to make up for the wait, but then again, I think most of my chapters can be considered extra-long… :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!_

She woke up stiff, groggy and disoriented. Her back and shoulders felt like they were on fire when she moved, and her head pounded. For the few seconds before she opened her eyes, she struggled to figure out where she was. Finding even opening her eyes difficult, as her entire face felt puffy, she managed to slowly turn her head to the right, finding rough cotton beneath her cheek. Her eyes slowly blinked open and it was only when she managed to lift her head that she realized where she was.

There in front of her lay Kurt. His face was covered in scrapes and bruises, his arms were bandaged in several locations and, as he had the night before, he lay back against the pillow, eyes closed. The monitor beside his bed continued to beep rhythmically.

The previous night, she'd almost been able to tell herself that he was just sleeping. Now, however, she was dismayed to see that he was _still_ unconscious, not appearing to have moved a muscle since the last time she looked at him. Tears once again leaked out of her eyes against her will, and she felt the ache in her chest intensifying until she wondered if the expression _heartbreak_ had an actual basis in fact. It was all she could do to hope that she wouldn't have to find out for herself.

Just then the door opened, and just like the night before, Jane ignored the sound. "Good morning," a cautiously cheerful voice greeted her, coming to stand facing her on the other side of Kurt. "I'm Alicia, and I'm going to be Mr. Weller's nurse today. Natalie told me that you had a rough night. These chairs definitely weren't designed for sleeping in…" She paused, and Jane looked up at her blankly. She'd heard what Alicia had said to her, she just couldn't force herself to respond beyond eye contact. The dark haired nurse smiled at her sympathetically.

"I brought you some water," she told Jane, pointing to a small table by the end of the bed. "Most people who're here with someone forget to take care of themselves." Jane smiled weakly as best she could, and she could feel even more tears falling down her cheeks.

"Thanks," she forced herself to whisper, silently begging Alicia not to ask her if she was Kurt's wife. She didn't think she could take that a second time.

Mercifully, Alicia just stared at the screen on the machine that was beeping, wrote down a few things on the clipboard she was holding, and then smiled at Jane once again, her eyes full of sympathy. "Have you tried talking to him?" she asked.

Jane looked back at her in surprise, wondering if she'd misunderstood. _Talking to someone who was unconscious?_ It had never occurred to her.

"Really?" Jane asked. "Does that work?"

"We don't know for sure, but sometimes it seems to," Alicia told her. "And it certainly can't _hurt_ , can it?" she asked, still smiling kindly at Jane.

"Uh… okay…" Jane stammered, still surprised.

The nurse moved towards the door, looking over her shoulder as she left. "You never know," she told Jane with a smile, and then she was gone, closing the door behind her.

Jane stared at the door, still holding Kurt's hand in hers, and then slowly turned back to look at him. He looked exactly like he had a second before, lying still on the bed in front of her. _Well… why not?_ Jane thought. _But… what do I say?_

"Hey, Kurt, enough is enough," she said in a loud whisper, trying to keep her voice steady but already feeling it falter. "Stop being so dramatic. If you want attention, just tell me." She stared at him hard, not really expecting anything to happen, but at the same time hoping against hope that this would be the moment that he would wake up, so that she could look in his eyes and see that he was okay. Several seconds went by and nothing happened, and she sighed heavily. Leaning forward again, she lifted his hand in both of hers, just high enough so she could rest her elbows against the bed beside him, and then held his hand against her cheek.

"You are _so_ stubborn," she told him quietly, pretending to be annoyed. "But I'm more stubborn than you are. I know you don't like to admit defeat, but that's the truth. And you know I'm not going _anywhere_ until you wake up, so you'd better get to work on that. Because the nurses are going to get sick of watching me sit here and watch you. So why don't you save us all the trouble and just wake up already, okay?"

She'd choked out more words than she'd expected to be able to, though she couldn't claim that her voice had been steady. Still, if there was even a chance that it would help, she had no hesitation about doing it. Whatever it took.

There was silence when she stopped talking, the only sound in the room was the sound of the machine, still beeping steadily by the head of the bed. Jane let out a heavy sigh, not sure what else to say. Then suddenly, when she stopped trying so hard, her eyes closed and she pressed his hand harder against her cheek, and the words just began spilling out. All joking had gone out of her voice, and all that was left was desperation.

"Kurt, _come on_ … I don't know how long I can _do_ this. I just… I don't remember what it was like before I knew you. It sounds like a cheesy line, I know, but it's literally true. You're the first person whose name I remembered. The first one who treated me like a human being, and not a freak, from the very first day. And even after everything we've been through… Well… I already know…"

She felt her throat closing around the words, and emotion threatened to overwhelm her, but she was determined to continue. "…I already _know_ what it's like to lose you. I… I can't do that again… I _can't_." Her eyes remained closed, her face contorting in pain, as the tightness in her chest grew even more acute. She sat there, still holding his hand against her cheek, perfectly still, just trying to remember to breathe.

 _In and out. In and out._

 _I can't do this._

 _I can't do this._

 _Yes… you_ _ **can**_ _._

She was so lost in thought, and in the squeezing sensation in her chest, that she almost didn't feel the slight movement against her cheek. It was so small, it would have been easy to discount it as her own hand shifting against his, causing his hand to shift, too… Except, the movement was more like the way he usually brushed his finger against her cheek. So even though she knew that it was nothing, she forced herself to open her eyes slowly, dreading what she knew that she would see – Kurt laying in the bed in front of her, looking exactly the way he had the last time she'd looked.

Except that that wasn't what she saw. Instead, to her surprise, she saw his eyes slowly blinking open, and after a few seconds, focusing on her.

"Jane," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Jane, of course, was once again beside herself, this time even more overwhelmed. The crushing fear and desperation that she'd been feeling for hours and hours didn't just disappear of course, and it was now joined by relief and happiness that were equally strong. She made a noise that was somewhere between laughing and crying, and once again, tears poured from her eyes far faster than she could have stopped them if she had tried – which she didn't.

"Hey," she whispered between gasps for breath, "it's about time you woke up." Kurt smiled at her weakly, attempting to chuckle but then stopping abruptly and appearing to be in pain.

"Ssshhh, don't," Jane said, releasing her left hand from his and placing it lightly against his chest, a gesture to tell him to relax. "I think they said you had a few broken ribs, among other things…"

"Yeah, feels like it," Kurt replied in a low whisper, groaning slightly. Then, looking at her and focusing on the tears falling down her face, he said in dismay, "You're crying again…"

She couldn't help but smile through her tears, thinking back to their conversation in which he'd told her that he didn't like to see her cry. It felt like _so long ago_ , even though she knew that it wasn't.

"Sorry," she whispered, attempting to smile at him, to which he just shook his head.

"What happened, anyway? I remember I went with the tech back into the warehouse, and then… I don't know..." It was all hazy to him, though he felt like he _should_ be able to remember.

"There was an explosion," Jane told him. "I don't really know what happened… Reade, Zapata and I were still outside the warehouse. I don't know if they have any leads. I've been… a little out of the loop since it happened. I've… I've been here since then… With you."

She looked at him sheepishly, knowing that she was admitting to him that she'd been so worried that she hadn't left his side. Of course, it wasn't a bad thing, but since things between them had changed so fast, she didn't know whether or not she should feel self-conscious about the way she'd reacted to his injury. Not that she'd done it consciously, of course, but now that she could see that he was okay, she was realizing just how distraught she had been…

"You've been here since then?" he asked in surprise, his voice still hoarse. "Was that…" He was struggling to remember. "Yesterday?" The look on his face told her that he'd already put it together, and she felt increasingly self-conscious.

"Yeah. We got here in the ambulance around five, and they didn't let me back here to see you until… I don't even know. I think it was past midnight…" Scoffing slightly, she nodded, suddenly reliving the pain of the last eighteen or so hours. "So… I was in the waiting room until they let me in here… Patterson brought me some clothes to change into when she came to relieve Reade, who'd been sitting with me. It's been… I was so…" Her voice cracked, and tears sprang to her eyes, after having stopped for the past minute or so. Her eyes closed of their own accord, pushing still more tears down her cheeks.

He wanted to be upset with her for not taking better care of herself, except he knew that he would have done exactly the same thing if their situation had been reversed. The fact that she was clearly _so_ emotional about everything that had happened only reminded him of just how intense their last few days had been…

And how much he loved her.

His hand was still against her cheek, anchored by hers, but his thumb was free to move. Swiping it gently against her skin, he could feel the tension in her even just through her face as he wiped at what seemed to be a never ending supply of tears.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. I'm fine."

She nodded quickly, the nod that said that she didn't quite believe him. Of course, she wanted to, but after the events of the past day, it was difficult. They'd both been hurt on the job before, but this was a much closer call than most, and the first one since things between them had gotten so serious. Sitting there, unable to do nothing but hope that he would wake up had reminded her of exactly how risky it was to do what they did – it was one thing to know that in theory, but it was another thing to sit in the hospital beside Kurt while he lay unconscious, not knowing when he would wake up. _If_ he would wake up.

Her hand had loosened its grip over his, and he slid it out from under hers, around to the back of her neck, then to her upper back, pulling her closer until her head rested against his shoulder. He wished that he could hold onto her tighter, but any movements beyond that reminded him just how many injuries he had sustained. He felt her breathing gradually slow down to normal as she relaxed, and he couldn't help but smile. How could he _not?_ After all, his arm was around her, only thin fabric separating his fingers from where his name was on her skin, and she was close to him. Really, that was all that mattered. That, and that they were both alive, despite the bomber's intentions, whatever they had been.

The door opened then, and then closed again a few seconds later. "Good morning, Mr. Weller," said the nurse that Jane recognized as Alicia. "My name is Alicia, and I'll be your nurse today. I'm glad to see that you're with us again."

"Me, too," he replied. "Trust me."

Alicia stepped toward the monitor on the other side of the bed, once again making notes on her clipboard. Jane had turned her head to look at Alicia, though still leaning against Kurt. Looking at Jane kindly, the nurse said, "We're going to need to assess Mr. Weller's condition, now that he's awake. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait in the waiting room for a little while."

Kurt felt Jane stiffen slightly, but she nodded her head, still against his shoulder. "Okay," she replied hesitantly.

"Hey," Kurt whispered from beside her. As Jane turned to look back at him, he leaned forward just enough to kiss her cheek. This ensured that, by the time she was looking at him, she was smiling again, despite the tears that were _still_ flowing from her eyes. "It's okay," he said, just as quietly.

Nodding at him, she leaned her forehead against his for just a second before moving back, despite how badly she wanted to stay close to him. Staring at him for another few seconds, she finally forced herself to stand up in the small space, moving slowly.

"I see that you didn't drink the water I brought you," Alicia observed. She said it merely as a fact, not a criticism. "Take it with you, please, and drink it. You're sure to be dehydrated by now. And take this time to maybe go downstairs and get some food. I promise I won't take any longer than I have to, and then you can come back in. Okay?"

Jane nodded, wishing Kurt hadn't just heard the nurse give evidence that she hadn't been taking care of herself. It was the kind of thing he would have said, as well.

Moving slowly, water in hand, Jane moved towards the door. She glanced back over her shoulder before she closed the door behind her, and her eyes met Kurt's once again. When she saw him smile at her, she managed to smile back, immediately feeling calmer despite the fact that she was being sent out of the room.

Back in the waiting room, she sat down in the same chair she'd occupied for hours the night before, and began typing on her phone keypad. She sent a group text to Patterson, Zapata and Reade which read, "He's awake. Seems okay. They're examining him now."

Not expecting a response, Jane turned off her screen, only to have it light up and buzz with vibration only seconds later. "Great!" came the text back from Patterson, followed closely by almost the same from Zapata. "We'll see you both later," Reade's reply, followed not more than a minute later.

Smiling to herself in surprise, Jane marveled at how different she felt from the last time she'd sat in that same spot. She'd been desperate before, but now she was almost calm. She'd seen him with her own eyes, not only seen him but _talked_ to him, heard his voice… He was badly injured, but he was going to be okay, and that was what mattered most.

Her foot tapped absently against the floor, beating out a steady, impatient rhythm as she waited to be allowed to go back to Kurt's room. As she sat there, she even managed to drink the water that Alicia had ordered her to take with her. She wasn't sure of how long it had been, or what time it was besides just "dark," but there was a hint of light in the sky through a window across the hall. Therefore, she had no concept of how long it had been when an elevator dinged in the distance, and a minute later, Zapata sat down beside her.

"Hey, Jane," she said, nudging Jane's arm with her elbow, and then immediately pressing a cup of coffee into her hand. "I thought you could use this."

Jane smiled gratefully, taking the coffee. "Thanks," she whispered, wondering how she'd gotten there so fast.

"Patterson said you got to see Weller, and we got your text. Did you sleep _at all_?" Zapata asked as Jane sipped her coffee. From the way Jane looked, Zapata was pretty sure that it must have been a rough night.

Jane shook her head. "Yeah," she said, "They let me go back to his room after midnight. I was sitting in the chair next to his bed and just kind of… fell asleep hunched over in the chair. It wasn't comfortable, but it was something."

Zapata just nodded. She'd been there herself, in the past, and it was never easy. In their line of work, sitting in hospital waiting rooms was a reality that happened more often than it did for most other people. After all, there was a better than average chance that someone they knew would get hurt.

As Jane took another sip of her coffee, she was surprised when the other woman handed her a small paper bag. Jane looked up at her questioningly, and Zapata replied simply, "Breakfast." When Jane still looked confused, Zapata added, "We all know you didn't eat anything last night, and God help us if Weller hears that you're not eating. _None of us_ will hear the end of it. Trust me, this is for the good of all of us."

Jane just nodded, though she was surprised at how much thought Zapata had put into it. She could see Kurt being upset about Jane's failing to eat, but she hadn't realized that it was something that could be considered anyone else's fault but her own. It felt nice to think that someone cared about her that much, and it was definitely a feeling that she wasn't used to. Maybe Zapata was just being nice to her to keep Kurt from stressing out, but even so, she appreciated the gesture. After all, she didn't _have to_ do anything for her… and after everything that Jane had done, she wouldn't have blamed Zapata for holding a grudge.

"Thanks," Jane said, peering into the bag to find a bagel, a muffin _and_ a croissant. "Wow," she added. "There's a lot in here."

Zapata just shrugged. "I wasn't sure what you liked," she reasoned. "Besides, you skipped dinner last night. Eat it all."

"I'll start with one," Jane said cautiously, thinking that she didn't even feel hungry, even now. She instinctively cursed herself and, after a pause, Keaton as well. Mostly, however, she felt a surge of self-loathing for the fact that she still didn't even have the normal human reaction to not eating, which was hunger. How long would it take until she felt like she could escape the shadow of her time with the CIA? The scars on her skin would fade, but what about the ways that she was damaged _inside?_

Again, Zapata nodded. She knew the feeling of not being able to eat, of being sick with worry over a loved one's condition, which was what she assumed that Jane was suffering from, not realizing that it was more than that. While she knew that she and Jane hadn't exactly been close since Jane had been back, she still hoped that her presence helped in the same way that others' presence had helped her when she'd been the one waiting for news in the past. After all, she knew how hard it was, waiting to hear about friends who'd been injured in the line of duty. Of course, it wasn't quite the same… none of those friends had ever been to her what Weller was to Jane, of course. Still, she understood, at least in theory.

Just then, breaking through the wave of self-pity that had washed over her along with the realization that she didn't want to eat, Jane heard Kurt's voice in her head.

 _You're doing fine, Jane,_ he told her in a smooth voice. _It's going to be okay._

Jane choked back a noise that was somewhere between surprise and relief, but which sounded more like a sob, and smiled even though she felt tears in her eyes again. Blinking slowly and taking a deep breath, she struggled to regain her composure so that she didn't break down in front of Zapata. Things were thawing between them, but that didn't mean she was comfortable being as emotional as she felt just then in front of her.

Slowly, Jane drew out the croissant from the bag and broke off a piece, bringing it to her mouth. She expected it to be utterly tasteless, like cardboard or sawdust, but instead, she was surprised to note that it actually tasted _good_. It had the buttery flavor and the flaky texture that she knew that it was _supposed_ to have. Smiling in spite of herself, she nodded. "It's good," she told Zapata in surprise, after swallowing the first bite.

"Good," Zapata said, glad to hear that at least one of her guesses had been right. "Now eat the rest of it. It's not enough, but it's a start." When Jane hesitated, looking down at the floor, Zapata added, "Seriously, don't make me tell Weller that you were refusing to eat. I think we both know he won't like that."

"That's low," Jane mumbled, but smiled slightly to herself, breaking off another piece of the croissant and chewing it slowly, then sipping her coffee. Zapata nursed her own coffee, watching every person who came into the waiting room for any sign that they were heading their way with news about their boss' condition. The two women sat in silence after that, Zapata staring at the people coming through the waiting room and Jane keeping her eyes fixed on the floor.

Finally, Alicia reappeared in front of Jane and Zapata. Jane, who was still staring at the floor, focused on her coffee and trying _not_ to think about what felt like the interminable wait before she could see Kurt again, didn't notice her. Zapata, on the other hand, stared at her intently, convinced that this woman had come to tell them something.

"You two are waiting for Mr. Weller, right?" she asked. When Jane's head snapped up to look at her, Alicia continued. "If you'd like, you can follow me." When Jane and Zapata exchanged hesitant glances, Alicia just smiled. "Sorry, yes, both of you," she added. "The doctor said that he's now cleared to have more than one visitor at a time."

Jane felt a surge of happiness. Not specifically because anyone else could go in to see Kurt at the same time as she could, though of course she didn't want to monopolize him. Well, actually she _did_ want to monopolize him, if she was being honest, but she knew that she _shouldn't_. But no, she was happy about what the loosening of Kurt's visitor restrictions meant for his health – if he weren't doing well, they wouldn't have allowed them both to go and see him. That meant that his prognosis must be good, and there was nothing that could make her happier than _that_.

Jane trailed directly behind Alicia, Zapata only a few steps behind, back along the route to Kurt's room. Alicia opened the door for them, but this time Jane hung back in the doorway, nodding at Zapata to go in first.

At the sound of the door opening, Kurt looked up. They'd told him that his visitors would be allowed to come back in – _Visitors? As in, more than one?_ He'd wondered who was out there besides Jane. After all, she was definitely one of the visitors, since she would have had to have been forcibly removed from the hospital before she would have left. He smiled easily when he saw her, even when she remained in the doorway, letting Zapata enter the room. After all, the room was really tight, already crowded with even one visitor. Just seeing Jane across the room made him happy.

Jane watched as Zapata walked toward the bed, and she simultaneously felt envy and warmth. Of course it was good that Zapata had some time with Kurt. They'd worked together for a long time, and Jane knew that Zapata had been worried about him just like she had. Well, maybe not _just_ like she had, but deeply, in her own way. The team was like family – they had been since before Jane had come along, after all. Jane stood and leaned wearily against the doorframe, holding her coffee and the bag that Zapata had brought her, now containing only a muffin and a bagel.

"Weller, I swear to God," Zapata whispered angrily as she approached her boss' bed. "If you _ever_ pull that shit again, I'm going to kill you myself." Her words may have been threatening, but her tone and her expression reflected the relief that she felt to see Weller in one piece. They'd each been on both sides of this situation in the past, and both of them knew how it felt to be in the other's shoes.

Kurt smiled slightly, wincing as he moved just a little too much to one side, which put pressure on his broken ribs. "Trust me, Zapata," he groaned, "it wasn't exactly my idea of a fun day." Zapata sat down on the chair, leaning forward to smile with relief at Kurt, then suddenly glancing back over her shoulder to see what had happened to Jane. Seeing her looking into the room from the door, Zapata turned back quickly to look at Kurt, only to find him looking past her at Jane as well.

Jane watched from the door, not even focusing on the words that the other two were saying to each other. She sipped her coffee absently, waiting patiently for her turn. Since she didn't plan to leave anytime soon, she didn't mind letting Zapata have Kurt's attention for the time being. She could have moved closer, she knew, but the room was crowded and since Zapata had the chair, it was easier to hold herself up against the door frame. After all, at this point she was pretty much running on fumes. As she leaned against the door frame, she let her eyes fall closed, enjoying just _knowing_ that she was in the room with Kurt. She preferred to see him, of course, but her eyes suddenly felt like they needed to rest.

 _Maybe for just a minute…_ she thought.

The next thing she knew, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she forced her eyes open again. Zapata was standing in front of her, looking at her with concern.

"Falling asleep standing up?" Zapata asked. "Jane, take the chair by Weller. I'm heading into the office. There's a lot of work to do on his case." Then, in Weller's direction over Jane's shoulder, Zapata called, "Because Weller had to go get himself blown up, and now the rest of us have extra work to do." Again, her words didn't match her tone, and she grinned at him.

"Bye, Zapata," he called. "Thanks for coming by." And then, in a more authoritative tone, he added, "Now go get back to work." They both smiled at his mock seriousness.

"Feel better, boss," Zapata replied. Then, as she passed Jane on her way through the door, she smiled and said, "For God's sake, Jane, go sit down before you fall down. I'll see you later, both of you. Okay?"

Jane nodded, adding, "Thanks, Zapata," softly. Zapata just nodded at her, then watched her make her way across the crowded room to the chair.

As Jane moved closer to Kurt, slowly approaching the chair she'd been in overnight, she could feel the smile on her face growing. Sitting down beside him, she didn't even notice that Zapata was still standing in the doorway. All she could think was how grateful she was that it was now her turn to sit by Kurt once again. It was silly, she knew, but she felt herself breathe easier just being in close proximity to him. She could ignore the ache in her head from the combination of lack of sleep and emotional upheaval, the puffy stiffness in her face from hours spent crying, and the discomfort that came from sitting, and _sleeping_ , in uncomfortable chairs. None of that mattered – as long as she could see him and see that he was okay, that he was looking back at her with a concerned smile that probably matched her own, she was alright.

Exhaustion and worry were hitting her hard, and Kurt could see it in her face. Though he knew it was ridiculous, he felt guilty for putting her through so much in the past twenty-four hours. _Hasn't she been through enough, after all?_ Of course, he hadn't done it on purpose, but that didn't stop him from wishing that he could do something to make her feel better.

"Hey," he greeted her warmly, the look in his eyes one of relief that matched her own, "you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, smiling despite how completely exhausted she felt, and sinking into the chair beside him as she reached for his hand. "So I guess the nurse gave you a passing grade, since you were allowed more than one visitor," she observed.

"I guess so," he agreed, nodding slowly as he smiled back at her. "Too bad the room doesn't really _fit_ more than one visitor." They both chuckled softly at his joke, quiet for a minute. He could see that she fell a little short of being _okay_ , as she claimed to be, but he knew that there was absolutely nothing anyone would be able to do short of knocking her out and carrying her there themselves to get her to go home and rest. Not as long as he was in the hospital. After all, that was how he would've been in her place, if it had been her in that bed.

Zapata smiled at the two of them. She'd seen them together at work the day before, but this was very different. Somehow, it seemed like their weekend away had changed things between them significantly. Of course, it had been obvious to everyone _except_ Weller how he'd felt about her a long time ago, but after everything… It seemed like they'd finally gotten themselves to a good place. Despite her misgivings about Jane after she'd come back to the FBI, Zapata had to admit that the two seemed to be good for each other. Slipping out the door quietly, she closed it behind her and set off for the NYO. After all, there was a lot of work to do.

Moving as slowly as possible to minimize what he suspected would probably be a sharp pain, he braced himself against his right arm, attempting to shift himself to the far side of the bed. He watched concern flash in Jane's eyes, and then felt a stab of pain a second later, pushing through it slowly.

"Hey, stop," she told him, adding, "What are you doing?" Having finished shifting himself as far to the right in the small bed as he could, he looked back at her with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Making room for you," he told her, tugging gently on the hand that he was holding. "I'm not the only one who needs rest."

Jane's eyes widened, and she immediately looked around, as if a doctor or nurse was going to appear out of nowhere and tell her that under no circumstances was she allowed to fit herself into the small space on the bed that Kurt had just created. Seeing no one, she looked back at Kurt unsurely. "I don't think… I mean…"

With his right hand, Kurt pressed a button that reclined the bed, bringing it almost flat, and changing the angle at which they were looking at each other. Now that he looked more like he was laying down, Jane suddenly felt even more tired.

"Come on… Who knows how long it'll be before they want to check on me again. It might be a while, it might not… In the meantime, we can have a little nap." When Jane looked at him skeptically, he shook his head at her. "You're telling me you don't think anyone else has ever done that before? Taken a little nap on a hospital bed next to a patient? Besides, what's the worst that can happen? They tell you to get up?"

When he put it that way, he made it sound perfectly logical, she couldn't help but think, and she could feel her hesitation wearing away quickly. As exhausted as she was, it wasn't going to take much more convincing…

She felt a tug on her hand again, and looked down to see his eyes drifting closed. It made her eyelids feel heavy just watching him, and that was all it took. She let go of his hand and pulled herself up, out of the chair, very slowly and carefully climbing onto the side of the bed, lowering herself down on her right side in the small space that he had created on the edge. He was still laying on his back, because of his injuries, but he turned his head toward her, leaning his face against the top of her head as she nestled hers against his shoulder.

Her right arm was folded under her head, and her left hand reached up to his. She didn't want to rest her hand on him, for fear of putting pressure somewhere that would hurt him, so instead she tugged his hand towards her, snuggling close to him and tucking their interlocked fingers under her chin.

It was cramped, yes, but it was so much better than being in the chair. She wasn't sure how Alicia or anyone else would react, or, when she stopped to think about it, how _she_ even felt about the fact that she'd just climbed into his hospital bed with him… but just then she was so tired, so relieved that he was _alive_ , and so drunk on the high she felt just from being close to him, that she simply couldn't make herself care what anyone else thought. She would worry about that later... _if_ it became necessary.

Within seconds, she could feel herself drifting off to sleep, and she wondered if he already had as well. As if to answer her question, she felt him kiss the top of her head, then heard him whisper quietly, "Let's get some sleep, okay?" She nodded against him, the only response she had the energy left for, and after that her breathing evened out as she fell asleep, a smile on her face. The last twenty or so hours had felt like a nightmare, but this… this may well have been heaven, as imperfect as it was.

He was safe, and alive, and close enough that she could reassure herself of both of these facts without having to move. That was all that mattered.

In some other, more perfect life, she would have slept soundly for at least a few hours. However, Jane had never had that kind of life or that kind of luck. She was accustomed to nightmares, and had been for as long as she could remember, though that still wasn't very long. So far, they'd always been the same kinds – either they'd been about the CIA black site, or Sandstorm, or occasionally, her life as Remi. Though they weren't always clear, she could always trace them back to something related to one or more of those sources. Of course, she didn't remember if she'd ever had nightmares as a child – though with what she knew about her childhood, it seemed impossible that she _hadn't,_ at some point.

Because of this, the nightmare that she had after falling asleep beside Kurt was unlike any that she could remember having. There was no Keaton, no CIA black site, no Oscar or Shepherd or Sandstorm or Phase Two… What there _was_ was darkness. All she knew in her dream was that something had happened to Kurt – she didn't even know _what_ , only that she couldn't find him, and that was enough to terrify her. In her dream she was screaming his name, over and over, and loudly as she could, stumbling along in the darkness and bumping into strange shapes in her path, none of which she could identify. None of them were Kurt. He seemed to be nowhere to be found.

Finally, after her voice was hoarse and she'd collapsed on the ground, light began to filter in from what appeared to be a distant horizon. Slowly, she began to make out shapes of things around her – though it didn't help much. Somehow, even with the slowly increasing brightness in the distance, it still wasn't even clear if she was inside or outside. This didn't make sense to her, but the panic that she felt overshadowed her confusion.

She could now _see_ the obstacles that she'd been bumping into, but she still couldn't make out what they actually _were_. Her eyes continued to dart nervously around, slowly taking in more and more of her surroundings as the light grew brighter. That was when she saw him. _Kurt_. Far off in the distance, and, to her dismay, lying on the ground.

Standing up and running as fast as she could, attempting to scream his name once more despite the fact that she had no voice left with which to do so, she was at his side in seconds, collapsing on the ground beside him. She pressed her fingers against his neck to check his pulse, her ear against his chest to listen for his heartbeat, and, getting nothing from either of those, shook his shoulders in desperation, trying to speak into his ear while sobbing bitterly, all in an attempt to wake him up.

The result of each of these attempts was the same: _nothing_. He had no pulse, no heartbeat that she could hear, and no reaction to anything she said or did. Whatever had happened, she was too late.

The sadness that overtook her was instant and immeasurable, beyond anything she'd ever felt before. Worse even than seeing him after the explosion or riding with him in the ambulance or waiting in that hospital waiting room. After all, those times had been terrifying, but she'd clung desperately to hope. This time… there was no hope. She'd simply been too late, and now he was gone… and it was _her fault_. Whatever had happened, that much she knew.

Collapsing forward over him, she screamed with everything inside her – and that was a very significant amount of anger, frustration and despair.

 _That_ was when she finally woke up. She was startled to go from that place of earsplitting noise to, all of a sudden, almost complete silence. Once again, the only noise in the room was the rhythmic beeping of the machine on the other side of Kurt's bed, and suddenly, Jane's now heavy, terrified gasps for breath. Before she even had a chance to open her eyes, Kurt's voice was in her ears. It wasn't just that she was hearing his voice in her head. At least, she didn't _think_ so…

She didn't even focus on the words, only on the fact that she could hear his voice.

 _Kurt! But he was…_

 _No,_ she told herself. _A dream. Oh my God, it was a dream._ The realization washed over her like a strong ocean current, and she felt as though she'd been knocked over with relief.

" _Jane._ " Kurt was talking urgently, speaking in her direction and holding on tightly to her hand. "Jane, it's okay, you're safe. I promise," he was telling her. The first time she heard his voice, she thought it was all just a trick of her imagination, and she shook her head hard against the pain in her heart. Despite the fact that she could hear him saying her name, she couldn't make that feeling of loss go away.

She struggled to catch her breath as she opened her eyes, relieved to see that he was really there, squeezing her hand. The surge of emotion she felt then was overwhelming, and without warning, she suddenly pushed herself to sit up, turning around and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. In order to turn that direction, she was forced to let go of his hand, and she clutched both hands around the metal frame under the mattress on either side of her, still gasping for air. Just a few seconds later, she felt his hand on her left shoulder, which was the side closest to him, and she felt herself immediately begin to relax. His hand slid down her arm, then back up again, over and over in a soothing motion.

He wanted to do something more to comfort her, because as far as he could tell this nightmare had been even worse than the others that he'd seen her have over the past week. However, thanks to his injuries, it was hard for him to move very much. He managed to reach her shoulder, squeezing gently before running his hand down her arm, then back up again. Her muscles seemed to relax slightly right away, to his relief, so he continued doing what he was doing, moving his hand up and down her arm as far as he could reach.

She had unclenched her hands from the bedframe now, instead digging her elbows into her legs, then hunching forward and holding her head in her hands. For lack of a better release for all of the pent up emotion inside her, she sobbed long and hard.

Feeling like his hand on her arm was not enough, slowly, and with great effort as well as help from the bed whose position he could control, Kurt managed to sit himself up far enough to reach his hand to the middle of her back. Once there, he rubbed slow circles and spoke soothingly to her, unsure if she could even hear him over the noise of her cries and gasps for air. He couldn't sit up far enough to speak near her ear, but he continued nonetheless.

Eventually her tears slowed and she calmed down, turning around to look at him reluctantly, with eyes that were once again puffy and red. It wouldn't have surprised her if they stayed that way permanently, at that point.

"Bad dream, I'm guessing?" he asked quietly, to which she just nodded silently. He reached for her hand, looking at her with worry. "Come here," he said quietly, and she turned around so that she could lean slowly against the mattress beside him once again. Her right shoulder leaned against the semi-reclined bed, her right arm once again tucked behind her head and her left hand floating up to his cheek. She had felt the sudden need to be sure that he was real, and that seemed to best way to be sure. Now it was her thumb moving back and forth across his cheek, and he covered her hand with his, then slowly lowered both of their hands together, so that he could hold it in one of the few spots on the front of him where he wasn't sore.

It was obvious to him that she was shaken up, and even without knowing what her dream had been about, he could sense that this one had been different. He was just beginning to wonder if he should ask her if she wanted to talk about it, when he heard her take a deep breath.

"I've never had a dream like that before," she whispered. "At least…" she paused and rolled her eyes at the familiar words that always left such a bitter taste in her mouth. "… _not that I can remember_. It wasn't about any of the things I usually dream about – Keaton, Sandstorm... it was nothing like that. It was just darkness. And…" She hesitated, almost embarrassed to tell him that she'd been completely and utterly beside herself over having found him dead in her dream.

 _If there's anyone who would understand that fear,_ the voice in her head reassured her soothingly, _it's Kurt._ _He has literally been in that situation._ She knew that it was the truth, but even so, it was hard to get the words out.

"And I couldn't find you anywhere… I was stumbling around in the dark, screaming your name, and I kept bumping into things… And then slowly, there was light in the distance, and finally I could see. And I found you." She almost choked on her last few words, shaking her head. "And I don't know what happened, but I was…" Her eyes closed against her will, and she found that, to her dismay, she was crying _again_.

 _Enough, already!_ she thought, wondering if it would always be like this, if she would ever stop feeling like her emotions constantly lay just beneath the surface, ready to burst forth at any moment. "I was too late," she finished in a whisper. Her forehead dropped down gently on his shoulder, and she found that suddenly she couldn't even cry anymore.

Her dream was certainly understandable, considering what had happened the day before, but he hated to see her cry, and he certainly didn't want to see her in so much pain. He squeezed her hand in his, then lifted it so that he could kiss the skin on the back, just below her knuckles.

"It's okay, Jane," he whispered. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

A choked sob escaped from her as she attempted to laugh at his joke, even though it wasn't at all funny to her. If yesterday hadn't been bad enough, she'd just relived the feeling, times a thousand, in her dream. She was now far more exhausted then she'd been when she'd fallen asleep beside him. A glance at the clock told her that it was already mid-morning, and she wasn't sure how she was going to make it through the rest of the day… Not that there was any guarantee that she'd be getting any sleep that night, or any time soon, really, no matter what she did.

He pressed her hand flat against his chest, over his heart, and she recognized the gesture as the same one they'd both used in the past. It wasn't even necessary for either of them to utter the words _You're my starting point,_ because it was understood _._ Taking a slow, deep breath in, and then exhaling just as slowly, she felt herself begin to relax. Keeping her eyes closed, she took another breath… and another. Finally she was able to open her eyes again, lifting her head slightly to look up at him. He was watching her, she noticed, the expression on his face that same one she craved so much – the one that was so full of love, she now realized, she could see it clearly.

His thumb fanned back and forth against the back of her hand, the rest of his fingers remaining still to hold hers in place, and she smiled at him. It had only been a dream. A horrible dream, but a dream. As if she hadn't had enough reason to appreciate the fact that he was alive after the real events of the day before, she had even more now.

The door swung open then, as they had known that it would sooner or later. Alicia peeked in and then stopped in the doorway, biting her lip as she smiled at them. Jane looked up at her sheepishly, while Kurt looked, as usual for almost any situation when Jane was not in danger, perfectly calm.

"Okay… you two are just too cute," she said, closing the door behind her as she walked in slowly. Jane started to sit up, but Alicia waved her hand at her.

"You're fine, sweetie," she told Jane, "You stay there if you're comfortable. You had a rough night, I know."

 _You don't know the half of it,_ Jane thought, feeling Kurt's hand squeeze tighter on top of hers.

"I just need to check on a few things," Alicia mused, looked at the screen beside the bed and nodding approvingly. "Looks good. And how are you feeling, Mr. Weller?"

"Call me Kurt, please," he replied.

Alicia chuckled, nodding her head. "Let me guess. 'Mr. Weller is my father.' Right?" she asked good-naturedly.

Jane winced slightly at the thought of Kurt's father, and she saw the expression on his face change for a split second before he caught himself and the look was gone. Alicia wasn't wrong, of course. Not only was Kurt generally an informal person, but he also wanted to avoid being reminded of his father at all costs. But there was no reason that a random nurse would know just how sensitive a subject his father was, and certainly no reason to tell her.

Kurt just nodded, smiling stiffly. "Pretty much, yeah," he grimaced, and Alicia nodded in reply.

"No problem. So how are you feeling, Kurt?" she asked again, as if it was the first time.

"Like something exploded a couple feet away from me," he replied.

Alicia smiled and rolled her eyes. "A comedian, huh?" she asked.

"Always," Jane interjected. She tried to move her hand off of his chest, slightly embarrassed at suddenly having an audience, but found that Kurt's hand held hers fast.

"Okay, then, let me rephrase the question," Alicia replied. "On a scale of one to ten, what's your pain level?"

Kurt considered the question for a minute. "Maybe… a six?" he replied. "Really, I just feel sore _everywhere,_ and my ribs hurt like hell, and…" He stopped to think about whether anything else was hurting.

"How's your head?" Alicia asked him. "It was hurting before, wasn't it?" As she spoke, she wound a black piece of fabric around his right arm, Velcro-ing it securely in place, so that she could take his blood pressure. He relaxed his arm, letting his hand fall from on top of Jane's without a word. While she knew that it was both necessary and temporary, she couldn't help but feel the loss of his hand on top of hers more acutely than she'd expected.

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, stopping to think. "It doesn't hurt as much. Almost not at all, actually."

Releasing the band around his arm after taking his blood pressure, Alicia nodded and made notes on her clipboard as Kurt's hand returned to its place on top of Jane's. The nurse looked up at him appraisingly, appearing satisfied. "Alright, the doctor will be in in a little while," she told him. "Glad to see that you're making progress. Just call if you need anything, okay?" He nodded, and she disappeared through the door into the hall.

Jane sighed heavily. "Pretty sure I'm going to have to get up before the doctor comes in," she told Kurt, who squeezed her hand again.

"You know what?" he asked her, attempting to change the subject to a happier topic. "I predict I'm going to be discharged from this place by the end of the day."

"Just curious… you do know that you're going to be taking the rest of the week off, right?" she asked, looking at him sternly. "You're not going back to the office until at least next week."

"Is that so?" he asked in amusement. If anyone else had said it to him, he would have taken it as a challenge. Indeed, he hadn't thought ahead to what he was doing the following day, but he certainly hadn't planned on taking the rest of the week off. Maybe the rest of the _day_ … Come to think of it, he had to think hard about what day it _was,_ anyway…

"Yes," she replied seriously. "You were _unconscious_ for more than twelve hours. You have _broken ribs_. You're not just going right back out there…" She was staring at him intently, and he noticed that she didn't blink or look away. When it came to stubbornness, they were pretty evenly matched.

"Well, today's Thursday… right?" he asked to confirm. "I guess maybe I can handle taking the rest of the week off. When do I get to go back, just out of curiosity?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"On Monday, unless the doctor tells you to take more time off. But definitely not _before_ Monday," she said quickly.

"You've been thinking about this," he observed with a grin.

"Maybe a little bit," she said with a shy smile.

"I just have one problem with this arrangement," he told her, the smile on his face making her suspicious.

"What's that?" she asked curiously.

"Well, I don't know if I can take that many days off in a row without someone to keep me company," he said. She was amazed that he could keep a straight face.

"Three days? That's not that long," she replied evenly, her face revealing nothing despite how badly she wanted to smile at him. She could play this game, too, after all.

"You know me," he said innocently, "I'm just not good at taking time off. I get antsy. I wouldn't be able to stay home by myself. I'd probably end up at the office."

"You want me to call Reade? Maybe he'll come and hang out with you this weekend," Jane suggested, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Don't get me wrong, I like Reade," Kurt said without missing a beat, "but I don't really want to hang out with him for three days."

"Hmmm, okay," she said slowly, as if she was thinking hard. "Do you have anyone in mind? Patterson? Zapata?"

Narrowing his eyes at her and shaking his head, he leaned his face down closer to her. "You're impossible. You know that, right?" he asked her.

Her smile spread across her face instantly, and her cheeks flushed. "I might have been told that before, once or twice," she replied, looking into his eyes as his face came closer to hers.

"Well whoever told you that definitely knew what they were talking about," he said quietly, his nose now only an inch from hers.

"Yeah, I kind of like that person, and I generally trust his opinion," she replied, not looking away. "He's a pretty good judge of character… because I'm _definitely_ impossible." He'd just begun to smile triumphantly when she added, "Just as much as he is."

"Hmmm, is he?" Kurt mumbled. "Who is this guy, anyway? He sounds fascinating."

Jane just shook her head, fighting against the urge to laugh. When her head finally stopped moving, Kurt leaned closer to her, his nose brushing against hers, but stopped before their lips came into contact with each other. She wanted to think of something clever to say, but looking into his eyes just then, words failed her. So she did the only thing that she could think of, and leaned up the last fraction of an inch to kiss him.

"So, does this mean that you'll keep me company?" he asked her when they finally drew apart, though they didn't move very far from each other. There was still less than a foot between them.

"You wanted me to keep you company?" she asked in mock surprise. "You never told me that." He made a playful face at her, and she grinned in delight. When it came to banter, it seemed that they were pretty much always on the same page. "I'm not the only one who'd want to keep you company, you know," she told him, suddenly looking serious again. "The rest of the team…"

"But here's the thing… you're the only one I _want_ to keep me company all that time," he told her. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't mind if the others come and visit… but the only one I want three straight days of is you."

She looked at him in surprise, blinking slowly. "You've already had five days in a row of me, soon to be six," she said. "I'd think by now you'd be sick of me."

"Sick of _you_? You're kidding, right?" he asked, once again squeezing her hand with his, both of them still on his chest. When her serious expression didn't change, his own expression softened. "Of course, it's up to you. If you don't _want_ to…" he told her with a sly smile. He didn't think that was the problem, but just in case…

Jane scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Of course I do…" she replied. "I just thought… You know you don't have to…"

"Jane, do you remember how you tried to tell me I didn't have to invite you along to Clearfield for the weekend? I don't say these things because I feel like I have to. I _want_ you there. _Really_. As for the idea that I could get sick of you… well, right now I'm convinced that it's impossible. The only way to know for sure is to continue testing my theory."

Rolling her eyes at him, she shook her head. "Very funny," she told him. The words he'd just said were echoing in her head, and she couldn't stop the smile that was creeping across her face as she heard them again and again. _I want you there._ They were such simple words, but they meant so much to her.

"Please, keep me company so I won't be bored while I'm recovering?" he asked her with an innocent smile, now clearly working hard to be his sweetest, most charming self.

As she shook her head at him, laughing, it once again seemed impossible that less than a week before, they had only been speaking to each other when absolutely necessary, and awkwardly in those circumstances. It was now Thursday, after all. The party was still less than a week ago.

"Of course I will," she said softly. And then, as much as she didn't want to, she said, "I'd better get up."

He nodded slowly, not wanting her to, but knowing that she had a point. Besides, now that he was feeling so much better, he knew – or, he had decided, anyway – that he'd be leaving the hospital sooner than later, which was very encouraging. Soon enough, he could sit next to her somewhere that was much more comfortable.

Sitting up slowly, she maneuvered herself carefully so that she didn't bump him, removing her hand from his chest only reluctantly. Turning to put her feet over the edge of the bed again, she stepped down to the floor, slowly settling back in the chair. Once again, she immediately felt much too far away from him. Somehow it was different this time, however, and she felt calmer, less desperate – probably because she'd slowly satisfied herself that he was okay.

Leaning forward, she folded her arms, laying them along the edge of the bed where she'd sat a minute before, then leaned her left cheek against them, so that she was facing him. His left hand landed softly in her hair almost immediately, his thumb moving along her hairline, and she closed her eyes as she felt his fingers against her scalp. If she had learned only one thing from everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours alone, to say nothing of the past week, or of anything that had come before, it was to hold onto every second of happiness that she could. They had been few and far between up until a week ago, and some of them had been mixed with sadness. She had learned quickly, many times over in the time that she could remember, something that most people her age already knew – that she could never know when it would all be gone.

She'd almost been lulled to sleep by the sensation of his fingers in her hair when somewhere in the distance, she heard the door to the room open, and the noise from the hall suddenly got louder. Tentative footsteps advanced into the room, and familiar voices exclaimed over the cramped quarters. Jane felt herself returning to consciousness, and slowly opened her eyes, though she didn't immediately move. Looking up at Kurt, she saw his eyes dart between her and the newcomers in the room. She raised her head hesitantly, not wanting to give up the sensation of Kurt's fingers in her hair, but finally she turned and smiled at the guests who had just arrived. As she'd already known, it was Patterson and Reade.

"Hi, you two," Patterson smiled warmly. "Kurt, how are you feeling?"

"As good as can possibly be expected after being blown up," Kurt replied with a grin. Patterson just rolled her eyes and shook her head at him.

"Jane, you look like _you're_ doing better than the last time I saw you," the blonde told her. That only made Jane realize how bad she must have looked last time, because she felt like she probably looked like hell just then.

Jane smiled, nodding in agreement. "I'm doing much better, thanks," she replied. "I had the easy job, I just had to be sick with worry."

Then it was Reade's turn to speak up from where he was standing behind Patterson. "Zapata thinks she found a lead on the explosion," he told the others. "I'm on my way to pick her up now, and we're going to check it out."

"Nice work," Kurt told him.

"I'll let you know if anything pans out," Reade replied with a shrug.

"Do you guys need anything?" Patterson asked, looking from Kurt to Jane and back again.

"No, thanks Patterson," Kurt said as Jane just shook her head. "I'm expecting to be out of here by tonight. You just focus on getting the bad guys, like usual. You guys are good at that."

"Our _team_ is good at that," Patterson corrected him, making sure to look at Jane, and then at Kurt, so that she would understand that she was included in that statement.

They all smiled at each other, chuckling softly and nodding in agreement, and for a minute no one spoke. Everyone simply looked around at each other, silently thankful that they were all alive. After all, they knew from experience that not all situations had this kind of happy ending. They'd all lost people along the way.

"We'd better get going," Reade said to Patterson, who nodded reluctantly.

"Yep," the blonde replied, "Back to catching the bad guys."

"Exactly," Reade agreed.

"Thanks for coming," Kurt told them.

"It's good to see you… you know… _alive_ and _conscious_ ," Patterson told him solemnly. "We were all really worried about you." Her glance fell on Jane again, and the two smiled at each other, no other words necessary, before Patterson looked back up at Kurt.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm pretty glad to be both of those things, myself," he told her. "And I plan to stay that way. I'm going to take the next few days off, I think…" he said slowly, thinking that even saying those words felt strange to him. Both Patterson and Reade's expressions were equally surprised, their eyebrows rising in disbelief at what they were hearing. When Patterson saw Kurt glance quickly at Jane beside him, she knew that it was Jane who was responsible for their boss' uncharacteristic behavior.

"But, stay in touch, and let me know what you find," Kurt told Patterson and Reade, who both nodded. "I'm hoping to be in the office on Monday."

"Will do," Reade replied, shifting toward the door.

"I'll keep you posted," Patterson promised, following him carefully out of the crowded room.

When the door closed behind them, Kurt smiled at Jane happily. "Just you and me again," he said quietly.

Leaning her head down on her arms again, she smiled back up at him. "Fine with me," she replied. Just as automatically, his hand returned to where it hand been, against the side of her head, when Patterson and Reade had arrived. Once again his thumb traced her hairline as the rest of his fingers combed gently through her hair. As much as she was looking forward to leaving the hospital, at that moment, she had no complaints.


	41. The Happy Part

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize that THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: I know nothing about medical treatments for broken ribs or being knocked unconscious by an explosion (or anything other major health problem), and I can admit it. I made my best guesses using the internet._

When the doctor on duty that day, a soft spoken older man who looked almost ready to retire, finally arrived, they discovered that Kurt's prediction – that he would be leaving the hospital by the end of the day – had been correct. The doctor agreed that after another six to eight hours or so of observation, barring any complications, he could, indeed, be discharged that evening.

Jane passed along the good news to the team, who were hard at work, and all of them replied that they would see the pair of them later. She wasn't quite sure what they had in mind, but she got the feeling that they were up to something.

"Patterson, Reade and Zapata have now all texted me back, and they all said, 'See you later,'" Jane told him. "Is it just me, or do you think they're planning something?"

"It's hard to say," Kurt replied. "Our team is dedicated to the job above all else, and who knows how things will be looking later today…" he continued thoughtfully.

His words, _our team_ , weren't lost on her, and she smiled back at him happily, forcing herself to pay attention to all the other words that came after those first two.

"That being said," he added, "they've proven time and time again how full of surprises they can be. So who knows? I guess we'll have to wait and see." She nodded weakly, feeling her eyes threatening to drift closed. She'd been alternating between sitting with her head down against her arms on the edge of his bed and upright in the chair for the past few hours, and was currently ignoring the soreness in her back in favor of the chance to rest her head. The fact that position that put her closer to him was, of course, a big incentive.

"Yeah," she replied tiredly, wondering if it was her imagination, or if time had actually slowed down. Glancing at the clock again for the tenth time in the past six minutes, it seemed like a distinct possibility.

 _It could be worse,_ the voice in her head reminded her. _You could be living through last night again._

She was momentarily confused, as it took her a few seconds to realize that it had only been last night when she'd sat in the waiting room, waiting desperately to hear how severe Kurt's injuries had been, unable to even see him for hours.

 _How was that only last night?_ she wondered. It seemed impossible, and yet… it was true. It had been only the night before.

 _Considering that the party at the FBI was less than a week ago, and feels like it happened a few months back, it shouldn't be so hard to believe that you were in the waiting room last night,_ the voice reminded her. Thinking that way only made her feel even more tired.

Forcing herself to lift her head, she looked up at Kurt. He immediately smiled at her curiously, his eyes moving away from the TV on the far wall, which was tuned into one of the twenty-four hour news channels.

"What's up?" he asked her, his hand brushing lazily against her arm beside him.

Shaking her head, she tried to convince herself that she wasn't tired. It was an old habit now, since she was so accustomed to avoiding sleep. During the past week she'd slept far _better_ than she had in the rest of the time she could remember, though she'd still had several severe nightmares. After the one she'd had that morning, however, she wasn't excited about the prospect of falling asleep, possibly ever again.

"I think I need more coffee," she replied, trying to clear the fuzziness from her head.

She looked away from him then, knowing that he was scrutinizing her and feeling as though he was looking right into her head and hearing her thoughts. "What you need is _sleep_ ," he told her. The moment the word she disliked so much was out of his mouth, however, she was already shaking her head. "Hey," he added soothingly, "I'm not telling you to go home. I _know_ that's not happening." She couldn't help but smile at that, because he was right, she _wasn't_ going anywhere until he did. Though she felt as though she should fight the urge, she laid her head back down on her arms, feeling her eyes closing almost immediately, to her dismay.

When she once again felt his fingers in her hair, she knew that he was now trying to lull her to sleep on purpose. Taking a deep breath, she fought to push her eyes open again, and had almost managed to lift her head up off of the bed when he started talking. She was so tired, she had to focus hard to make out the words he was saying.

"I'm glad you know that you're impossible," he told her in a tone full of nothing but affection. "Because that's exactly what you're being. Stop fighting it, Jane. Nothing bad is going to happen if you fall asleep." Even though the only part of him that was touching her was his hand on her face – which was by far the biggest frustration he had with his injuries and his hospital bed, because he could barely reach her, and thanks to the extreme soreness he felt, he couldn't easily shift position without risking significant pain – he could feel her tense up immediately. He knew that his words alone weren't going to fix things, and it certainly wasn't going to happen immediately, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying.

Logically, she knew that what he was saying was the truth, and yet… it felt impossible to relax. Again, she concentrated on breathing in and out, gradually feeling her heart stop racing, and once again become conscious that her eyes were drifting closed. Instead of panicking about the fact that she was falling asleep, she tried to focus only on the sensation of his hand in her hair. Yes, that was much better.

He watched her fall asleep, her head leaned against her arms along the edge of his bed, and couldn't help but smile. She'd been through so much, and yet there she was, still fighting it all but now sleeping peacefully – at least for the moment – beside him. She wasn't afraid of anyone, even when she should be – with one exception, of course, and that was Keaton. And yet, despite how brave she was, she was terrified of something as seemingly harmless as falling asleep. Of course, since she had terrifying nightmares, it made sense, but it made her that much more of a paradox. The urge he felt to protect her was almost overwhelming, even though – or maybe, especially _because_ – he knew how many factors they had working against them.

Watching her sleep, he couldn't help but feel sleepy himself. The pain medication he was on was pretty heavy duty, and it wasn't long before he felt his own eyes closing as well.

 _The more you sleep, the faster the day will go, and the sooner you'll be out of here,_ he told himself as he drifted off. That made complete sense to him, and was just one more reason why taking a nap just then was a good idea. It was certainly better than watching the news that played quietly on the TV across the room.

When Alicia entered the room around 12:30pm, she found both Jane and Kurt asleep. Smiling to herself, she couldn't help but think that she may never have seen a pair that were so in love. Though Natalie's notes had specifically said that the woman had seemed agitated when she'd asked if she was the patient's wife or girlfriend, both of which she had denied, there was no denying that there was _something_ between them. That much was clear. Maybe they just hadn't figured it out yet, but Alicia had a feeling that it wouldn't be long. From what she'd seen, serious injuries seemed to help clarify people's feelings for each other. It was a lot harder to take someone for granted when you were worrying about their health, after all.

Having completed her check of Kurt's vital signs and finding everything in the room in order, she left again without having woken either of them, to her relief. They'd certainly appeared to need the sleep, especially the woman.

Both Jane and Kurt slept through lunch. Jane began to stir a little after 3:00pm, and the movement as she woke up was enough to rouse Kurt as well.

"Did I really just sleep for almost five hours?" she asked groggily, picking her head up to look at the clock, "Or can I suddenly not do math?"

Kurt chuckled, pleased with the fact that Jane had finally seemed to sleep well for a significant chunk of time, and amused with her disbelief at that very fact. " _We_ really just slept for almost five hours," he assured her. "I fell asleep not long after you did." When she looked at him in surprise, he replied, "You made it look like a lot of fun."

"Very funny," she replied, laying her head right back down again, so that it was back within his reach. She'd quickly become addicted to the sensation of his fingers in her hair. "Next time, you can be the one sleeping on a chair," she added.

"You know I would if I could," he said sincerely, without missing a beat.

She looked up at him in surprise. Her statement had been rhetorical, and she hadn't actually expected a response. _Of course_ he would've switched places with her if he could have, and the look on his face confirmed it.

He felt as though he'd suddenly woken up and remembered so many things about Jane, and how he had always felt about her, even at the very beginning, that he couldn't believe that he'd ever forgotten. All at once, it all seemed so _obvious_ to him. They had both made so many mistakes, and yet… Somehow they'd gotten a second chance, just when it had seemed like it was too late.

Somehow, she couldn't help but feel as though suddenly, almost a week ago, he'd changed back into the 'old Kurt,' the one he had been at the beginning. As much as she liked it, she still wasn't quite used to this new old version of Kurt, who seemed to care so much about her. His current behavior was perfectly in line with just the kind of guy the 'old Kurt' had been, the one she remembered when she let her mind wander back to the beginning. Yes, this was definitely the same Kurt who'd stared at her intensely when she'd ended up with the FBI the first time. The same one who had made her feel so safe. Still, even after almost a week of this 'new old Kurt,' it surprised her every single time he did something nice for her – it still didn't feel real.

Smiling back at him, for a few seconds she couldn't speak. "I know," she finally whispered, and found that at that moment, she really did believe it. It was a strange feeling, the warmth in her chest which made her both so happy and so scared all at once. However, the more she looked at him, the more the balance tipped away from scared, towards happy.

 _But what if…_ The doubts at the back of her mind whispered.

 _Hush,_ she told them. _Look into his eyes. It's real._ The more times she said it to herself, the easier it became to believe it.

She wasn't tired, at least not _physically_ , but her alleged alertness and the fact that she'd just woken up from a five hour 'nap' – which, of course, was longer than she slept many _nights_ – didn't deter her from laying her head back down and closing her eyes once again. The sounds of the door to the room opening and another person joining them didn't seem important enough to open her eyes for, at least not when his fingers were in her hair.

"She's not asleep," she heard Kurt telling someone, but still she didn't move. That was when she recognized the other voice as Alicia, who'd undoubtedly come to check on Kurt again. Jane heard her telling him that he needed to eat the lunch that had been left for him earlier, while they'd been asleep. She also heard him assuring Alicia that he would make sure _she_ ate as well, and she almost laughed out loud. Not wanting to blow her cover, however, she allowed only a small smile as the only outward sign that she was awake.

After the door closed and the room was quiet again, she felt his hand still against her cheek. "Hey, sleepyhead," he said softly. "I know you're awake." The smile on her face grew, but her eyes remained closed.

"What gave me away?" she asked in amusement, still not moving.

"I just know," he told her in satisfaction. "I know you."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, her smile growing. "What am I thinking right now?"

"You're thinking that you don't want to move, and you don't want _me_ to move, among other things," he replied confidently. When her face changed and it appeared that she was at least mildly impressed, he couldn't help but ask, "Am I right?"

Opening her eyes then, unable to stop herself any longer, she was met by an affectionate look so intense, it almost took her breath away. "When you're right, you're right," she admitted, keeping her eyes locked on his.

"Well," he continued in the same smooth tone, "if we ever want to leave this hospital, I need to eat. And because Alicia is as observant as she is, she's watching to make sure _you_ eat, as well. Which means that in order to go home tonight, we need to at least move enough to be able to reach the food."

With a sigh, she smiled and turned her head so that she could kiss the inside of his palm, which had been against her cheek, then turned back to look at him, sighing again. "Oh, alright," she said in mock annoyance, but with a bright smile on her face.

He pulled his hand back reluctantly, and she lifted her head to look for where she'd put the bag that Zapata had brought her that morning, still containing a bagel and a muffin. She noticed that someone had moved it onto the small bedside table beside Kurt's tray of food, keeping it company. As if reading her mind, he handed it to her without a word as he pulled the table closer, since its base was on wheels to allow exactly that, pulling his own food closer to the bed.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, and Jane had to admit that she did feel a little better afterwards. She hadn't thought that she was hungry, but she was surprised to find that she must have been after all.

"It's hard to believe that there's only two days left in December… and in this year," Kurt mused after finishing the food that had been left for him. "It's been…" He had intended to say more, to make conversation, but when he'd thought about it harder, he found that it was actually something he didn't really want to talk about. After all, when he thought back on everything that had happened that year… It seemed to have turned out exponentially better than he'd imagined possible, but the road to get there had been longer and harder than he would have ever anticipated. It didn't feel like an exaggeration to say that in a way, he'd been through his own personal Hell.

"Yeah, it has," Jane agreed quietly.

Kurt immediately felt guilty for even bringing it up, because as bad as things had been for him, as far as he was concerned, that year had been far worse for her. She'd been literally tortured, after all.

"But it was worth it," she added in a whisper. After a pause, in which her eyes darted to the floor, she looked back up at him and added, "And if I found out that the way things happened this year was the only way to end up _here_ … and if I had to choose whether I'd change it… I'd go through it _all_ again. In a heartbeat."

Her words had literally taken his breath away for a second, and he had to remind himself to breathe. He knew that her pain had been immeasurable so many times that year, so for her to say something like that, and without hesitation… it blew him away. Those few words told him more about how she felt about him, about _them_ , than any _I love you_ ever could have.

Leaning forward in her chair, her eyes remained fixed on his, and though the smile on her face was sad, it was somehow also happy at the same time. He reached his hand out towards her, wishing her could hold onto more than just her hand just then, and once again she took it in both of hers.

As he continued to process her words, he was unable to keep a straight face while imagining the horrific things that she had been through that year. Just the thought of anyone doing the _one_ of the horrible things that Keaton had done to her even one time, much less all of them, many times, made his stomach churning with disgust and anger… The thought that she'd so casually tossed out, that she'd go through it all again to end up where they were… How could she _say_ such a thing? He couldn't allow that. Not for _anything._

 _It's not for you to allow or disallow,_ the voice in his head said soothingly. _It's not a choice, after all, not yours and not hers. It's_ _ **not**_ _going to happen. She's safe now, and you are going to keep her that way._

 _Damn right, I am,_ he agreed with the voice.

As she watched him, she saw his expression darken, and she could tell that he was focusing on the wrong part of what she'd said. He had become far too protective of her recently, which was hard to get used to after feeling such intense _dislike_ from him – hatred, even – and convincing herself that that was exactly what she deserved. It was also simultaneously truly sweet.

Shaking her head, and feeling her appreciation for him intensify, she chuckled. "You're focusing on the wrong part," she told him. He looked up at her, his expression appearing to change to relief before her eyes as he realized what she meant, and he smiled slowly. "I can say that I'd go through it again because, even though I mean it, I know that I don't _have to_. My point was, _this_ is as _good_ as the rest of it was horrible… plus a million times better. _This._ Right now… It was worth it."

There was an ache in his chest at the intensity of what she was saying, and he tried to deflect it with humor. Raising an eyebrow at her playfully, he couldn't help himself. "Right _now_? Here… in the hospital?" he asked.

She chuckled, looking down with a grin and then back up, shaking her head at him affectionately. "Here, or anywhere else, just… with you," she told him honestly. "Though I'd prefer not to be in danger of freezing to death again."

"Oh come on," he said with a grin, winking at her as his smile widened. "That wasn't all bad."

"If we separate the 'in danger of freezing to death' from the keeping warm part, then yes… it was… fun," she admitted, the grin on her face now matching his. "Though it seems like somehow we just keep finding ourselves in life or death situations. And somehow I doubt that that's going to stop anytime soon."

"And there's no one I'd rather be in life or death situations with than you," he told her, the same grin on his face. "Though, I really prefer the life part, not death."

A laugh escaped her before she could cover her mouth with her hand, and she shook her head at him. "That was cheesy," she told him, shaking her head.

"That was the _truth,_ " he replied, pretending to be hurt, but still grinning at her.

"And it was sweet," she said, having gotten her laughter under control and smiling fondly at him once again.

"See? I can be sweet," he told her proudly.

"I've _always_ know that," she told him, "for as long as I've known you. From the time you let a complete stranger put her hand on your face to try to recover her missing memories, despite how uncomfortable it made you." He looked back at her in surprise, and it only made her smile more. "I didn't realize it at the time," she assured him. "But looking back, I see it now. I _did_ know that you could be sweet, though even then. You knew that I didn't have anyone else, so you let me lean on you."

"That wasn't the only reason," he said quietly.

"I know," she replied, her voice suddenly almost disappearing. "And every time I was falling apart, you were there."

"Not every time…" he said, guilt suddenly overtaking his features and his gaze moving to the floor.

"No, well, maybe not every time… After things started going wrong…" she replied carefully. "But that makes two of us, remember? We're evenly to blame for that." She said it with finality, as if she would accept no argument – which he knew that she wouldn't. "And yet…" she continued after a few seconds, "…here we are."

Her right hand released its hold on his left, and she pressed her index finger under his chin, pressing underneath it until he looked back up at her. Her finger remained there, and she curled the other three fingers to the right of it so that she stroked four fingers across his cheek, only her thumb not making contact.

His breathing faltered for a second then, which seemed appropriate because he swore that he felt his heart skip a beat as well.

"I love you," he whispered, so sincerely that she felt her chest ache.

"I love you, too," she said, her voice suddenly softer than it had been a second before. "And I think… I think I did a long time before I realized it."

Nodding, he looked at her and saw the same hints of pain in her eyes that he could feel behind his own. "I did, too," he replied, "which was what made it all so hard."

She smiled, suddenly feeling tears appearing in her eyes out of nowhere. He was reading her thoughts again, and he was absolutely right.

"No more crying," he told her seriously. "That part's over. We're not going back."

"So what's next, then?" she asked him curiously, giving him a watery smile.

" _This_ ," he replied quickly. "The happy part."

"Sounds good to me," she said. Without a word, she stood up from the chair and carefully moved herself back onto the edge of the bed, where she'd managed to balance herself beside him earlier. Whether or not he was being discharged in a few hours and they'd be able to go home and sit close together much more comfortably, at that moment she suddenly needed to be closer to him than she could manage while she sat in the chair.

He smiled warmly as she moved slowly onto the bed beside him, this time slipping his left arm around her lower back as she moved closer, so that it wound around her waist. She rested her left hand flat against his chest once again, over his heart, tentatively at first to be sure that she wasn't hurting him. Leaning her head down toward his shoulder, she snuggled against him with her head in the crook of his neck, feeling him lean his head against the top of hers. It was perfect.

Jane didn't quite fall asleep that way, but simply sat with her eyes closed, letting her other senses do the work. She was completely relaxed and yet full of adrenaline all at once. It was as though every time she thought that she couldn't possibly love him more, she discovered that she _could_. This realization was shocking to her and, she had to admit, wonderfully addictive.

Time passed both quickly and slowly at the same time, possibly because of the semi-consciousness she let herself drift into as she leaned against him. There was no reason to move, no reason to open her eyes, so she simply didn't. After all, she was perfectly satisfied with where she was.

At some point, she felt him kiss the top of her head, and she felt herself being pulled back toward awareness. She lifted her head off of his shoulder for the first time in what could have been hours – she couldn't be sure.

"I got a text from Zapata," he said in a low voice, leaning down towards her to speak, as if he was telling her a secret. Really, he just liked the excuse of talking to her to move closer to her. "The guy they questioned earlier gave them three names. One of them appears to have fled the country, and agents are staking out the last known locations of the other two. Patterson's working her usual magic, so… hopefully we'll know something soon."

Jane nodded, taking in the information with an unusual feeling of detachment. She couldn't figure out why her mind was so reluctant to process what he was telling her, to try to think of the next steps, why she wasn't chomping at the bit to be a part of the investigation… why the more she heard, the more she just wanted to stay by his side.

 _Could it be because you're exhausted? Not just physically, but also in a completely different way than ever before?_ her mind suggested. _Think about it. You're coming down from an extremely emotional five days, and then your emotions are pushed to the opposite extreme. What happened in the past twenty-four hours was… beyond intense. It's hard to know how to process it. Kurt could have been killed. And then you had a dream that was so realistic, you thought that he_ _ **had**_ _been. It's like you told him a long time ago… you don't remember ever losing anyone before, and then you thought you'd lost the most important person in your life – for the second time! It seems like it would be normal to be a little shaken up by that._

"Okay," she replied, almost tonelessly. She really wasn't sure _what_ to say. He was simply passing on information, she knew, not asking her to act on it, as she, along with the team, usually would have.

His eyes narrowed at he looked at her more carefully then. She didn't seem like her usual self – not that he could say with any certainty what her usual self was like, only that he'd never seen her like _this_.

"Are you okay?" he asked unsurely. She seemed to have become lost in thought while he'd been considering whether or not she seemed like herself.

Seconds passed in which she didn't reply, as if there was a time delay between her ears, her brain and her mouth. She had every intention of saying yes, like she almost always did – whether she was actually okay or not. After all, despite the events of last night and this morning, she was actually feeling very much loved at that particular moment – far more than she had ever hoped for, and certainly more than she deserved. Why shouldn't she be okay?

So then, why wouldn't the words come out?

She looked up at him steadily without a word, and her lack of response spoke volumes. He'd been expecting her to try to convince him that she was fine, and he'd been prepared to be skeptical, and to argue with her over the fact that he could tell that something was off. Instead, when she said nothing, he stared into her eyes, swearing that he could _hear_ the commotion that he imagined would have been going on in her head. It was a strange sensation, one that he'd occasionally had around her in the past… What it came down to was that he knew her, whether he had thought that he did or not. Because of this, he didn't actually need her to answer the question.

"We're helping from the sidelines this time," he told her, pulling his arm more tightly around her waist. "It's already been decided. You don't have to feel strange about not being in the middle of the action, okay? And I know I'm not one to talk, since I don't know how to _not_ be in the middle of the action… It's something new for both of us, but we're going to find out together. Alright?"

She nodded, relieved, turning her head on an angle and leaning her forehead against his cheek. When he moved slightly, dragging his stubble against her skin just enough for her to smile at the sensation, she seemed to regain the power of speech. "Okay," she replied quietly.

He wondered at how the same word that she'd said a few minutes ago could seem so completely different. The previous time, he'd been able to tell from that one word that she was absolutely _not_ okay. This time, on the other hand, he'd been able to hear loud and clear that she was fine – or at least, that she believed that she was going to be. He couldn't have explained how he knew, other than to say that, as he'd just realized, he knew her.

"You deserve a break, after everything," he told her quietly, keeping the side of his face in contact with hers, shifting slightly only to bring his mouth a little closer to her ear. "It's a shame that there's no time for a break, that the best we can do is 'helping from the sidelines.'"

"You deserve one just as much," she replied quickly. "And the reason that you know that neither of us can take one until Sandstorm is finished completely is one of the reasons that I love you. Because we don't need to explain it to each other. We both just _know._ " She felt the muscles in his face pull into a smile against her, and felt his face lean against her just a little more. "And as much as I'd love to go away somewhere with you, I don't need that. I don't _need_ a break. All I really need is… well… _you_."

"You have me," he whispered, moving slightly to try to be able to see her face while still leaning against her cheek.

"I know," she told him. "Lucky me."

"Lucky _me_ ," he corrected her. She rolled her eyes good naturedly at his competitiveness.

"Lucky _us_ , then," she countered with a smile.

"Agreed," he whispered, kissing her forehead. They both sat and leaned against each other with goofy smiles on their faces, having forgotten all about the rest of the world outside of the two foot space in which their faces existed. Slowly, however, the noises of the rest of the hospital filtered back in. Hopefully, several things would be happening soon – they'd likely be giving Kurt another dose of the heavy duty medicine that he was on, they would probably be bringing him another meal, and then hopefully the doctor would be telling him that he was progressing well enough to go home. After all, he'd been there for nearly twenty-four hours. Even with FBI-issued health insurance, a patient who seemed to be doing as well as he was wasn't going to be kept much beyond that.

Jane lifted her face slowly off of his, smiling at him as she pulled back, and enjoying the fact that by forcing herself to put a little distance between them, she could see him better. "They're going to be bringing you more meds soon, and maybe dinner," she told him. "Hopefully then we'll be able to get out of here." He just nodded, looking into her eyes with what she imagined was the same love struck expression she felt on her own face. "I'm going to go get some coffee and stretch my legs," she told him. "I'll be back in five minutes. Do you need anything?"

"Just you," he told her, keeping his eyes fixed on hers and then smiling when she rolled her eyes, unable to help it when she grinned in amusement.

"That was cheesy," she told him, just as she had earlier.

"That was the _truth_ ," he replied sincerely once again.

"Well then, you're in luck, because I intend to come right back," she told him.

"Please do," he told her. She climbed down slowly off of the bed and stepped around the various obstacles in her path towards the door.

"Don't go anywhere," she told him, turning around in the doorway and looking at him once more over her shoulder.

"Since you asked so nicely," he replied, recycling the line once again. She couldn't help but smile at that. Having no memories before a point that still felt very recent, she enjoyed it when he showed that he remembered their past conversations even more than most people probably would have. At that moment she had the urge not to leave at all, not to take her eyes off of him, and quite the opposite, to walk back over to the bed and sit right back down. However, she felt stiff a little groggy and knew that the short errand would do her good.

"I'll be right back," she told him, and before she had another chance to hesitate, she pushed the door open and walked through it, closing it behind her.

The silence in the room after Jane left was strangely somehow different from the silence that had existed when they'd sat quietly together for most of the day, in between conversations and naps. It was surprising how quickly he'd adapted to having her around most of the time, but that was exactly what had happened in the past week, he now realized.

It was strange, rejoining the world outside Kurt's room again after having sequestering herself inside it for so long. Granted, the halls of the hospital didn't exactly count as the outside world, but it was close enough. She stood for a few seconds and regained her bearings, then headed for the cafeteria.

A tiny sliver of discomfort pushed into the corner of his mind, as he wondered at what the chances were that Sandstorm would somehow intercept her on her way to or from the cafeteria. After all, they were weakened, but they weren't destroyed completely. While it seemed unlikely, it certainly wasn't impossible. Kurt felt the danger acutely, probably because he was injured, and if something happened to her he would be far less able to get her back himself. And besides, they still hadn't figured out what had happened to _him._ While Sandstorm interference may have seemed less likely when it came to who had set the bomb that had landed him in the hospital, since up until now they'd always wanted him spared from harm, that was no guarantee that that hadn't changed, for whatever reason.

No, he wouldn't relax completely until Jane walked back through the door once again.


	42. Reason Enough

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)**_

The next time the door opened, it was Alicia, bringing Kurt both his medicine and a dinner that was slightly on the early side – since it was barely 5:00.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. And then, before he could reply with another witty comment about having been blown up, she added, "On a scale of one to ten, what's your pain level?"

Thinking for a minute, he replied, "About a five."

"That's great, it means you're going the right direction. But don't try to fool yourself, you're going to need to keep taking these," she shook the bottle of pills in her hand. "At least for a few days, most likely. The doctor will be in in a little while to check on you again, and then we'll see if we can't get your discharge paperwork started," she told him. "Assuming everything still looks, good, of course."

Kurt smiled and nodded at her absently. "Great, thanks," he replied, but his eyes kept flicking back to the door, willing Jane to walk through it. He felt as though she'd been gone a long time, though he knew that it had only been a few minutes since she'd left the room.

As Alicia made her way back to the door, it opened slowly, and to Kurt's relief, Jane poked her head in. Seeing the nurse on her way out, Jane stepped back, out of Kurt's view, to make space for her to leave, and then stepped back inside again once she'd gone.

"Hey," she said, walking back over towards him slowly, holding a cup of coffee. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nope," Kurt told her. "As you predicted, she brought medicine and dinner, and she seems to think that after the doctor gives the okay, on his next pass-by, we'll be able to start the discharge paperwork."

"That's great news!" she said happily, perching herself on the far end of his bed by his feet. She was farther from him, but there was more room to sit. Watching as he pouted slightly, she chuckled at him.

"You're so far away," he told her, as if she were across the room, or even farther.

"I'm sitting _on your bed,_ " she countered with a smile.

"Still, too far away," he muttered, pretending to sulk.

 _You're so cute when you pout,_ she thought, but decided not to tell him just then, pretty sure that he wouldn't appreciate it. "I think you're supposed to be eating that food that Alicia just brought," Jane said, changing the subject. "So they'll let you go home." He looked from her to the food and back, grudgingly admitting to himself that she was right.

"And what about you?" he asked. "What are you having, besides coffee?"

"I still have the bagel that Zapata brought me this morning," Jane said, as Kurt handed her the paper bag that had once again been sitting by his tray of food.

"Somehow you've managed to make breakfast last all day," he observed, and she noted the hint of disapproval with which he said it. She _knew_ that what she'd been eating had counted as actual meals, but she'd tried not to think about it. Wasn't it better than nothing, after all?

"There were _three huge things_ in there when she gave it to me," she protested, knowing that to him, this seemingly logical argument meant nothing. All at once, her face tightened in frustration. "I'm trying," she sighed heavily.

Of course, he immediately felt guilty for pushing her. "I know you are. I'm sorry," he said, his hand landing on her left knee, which was pulled up onto the bed and was the only part of her that he could reach at that moment.

The voices in her head were busy disagreeing over whether she should feel frustrated with herself for still having no appetite – even though logically that made no sense – or focusing on the warmth that she felt inside because he cared enough to give her a hard time. In order to prove to him that she was trying, she pulled the bagel out of the bag and broke off a piece, then took a bite as he watched her. Without a word, he squeezed her knee and nodded, then turned to his own hospital issued food. It wouldn't win any culinary awards, but eating it would give him one thing that he wanted very much – hopefully, the chance to go home.

A little while later, they'd each finished eating and were sitting and watching TV. Jane had moved back to the chair, and once again sat holding Kurt's left hand, this time in only her right so that she could angle herself toward the far wall. She had no idea what they were watching, some sort of family comedy in which she had no real interest, but it was passing the time. Besides, Kurt's thumb was trailing up and down across her palm, so she really didn't need to focus on anything else, anyway.

There was a knock at the door and without further hesitation, the doctor – whose name Jane had forgotten almost immediately earlier that day – came into the room. At the same time, Jane and Kurt both let go of the other's hand, Kurt pushing himself up a little straighter for what he hoped was the doctor's final examination before he went home. The older man asked him questions about how he was feeling, consulted his vital signs and the clipboard that Alicia had been carrying around so conscientiously all day, and after a cursory examination, a few minutes later Kurt was declared well enough to go home to continue his recovery.

"I know that you work for the FBI, and that your job is very hands-on," the doctor told Kurt sternly before he left the room, "but even though you're well enough to go home, you're _not_ well enough to go back to work. With your injuries, you need at least a week to recover at home, and after that, you'll still need to take it easy. Your ribs won't get a chance to heal if you're out there chasing criminals at the end of next week." From the look on the doctor's face, Kurt would almost have thought that he'd been watching him for the past twenty-four hours and knew _exactly_ what his job entailed.

Jane sat beside him and smirked. She didn't say a word about the doctor's instructions as he left the room, wishing them well. It was enough that she had been right.

When the door closed, even before Kurt turned to look at her, he knew the look that he would find on her face, and when he finally did look at her, he saw that he'd been right. He knew that she wasn't actually _happy_ about the doctor's warning, but that she found it amusing that her assessment of his need to rest had been correct. Still, he was just a little bit annoyed.

She tried not to look smug when he looked at her, though she could feel the smile on her face and simply couldn't force her face into anything more neutral. Kurt was not one for following doctors' orders when it came to taking it easy, and he never had been. She'd seen him ignore that very warning from more than one doctor in the past, after all. However, she knew that this time there was a better chance that he would do as he was told – or at least, she _hoped_ there was.

 _If_ he behaved differently this time, it seemed logical to assume that it would be because of an influence that hadn't been there the last time he'd been injured. It seemed strange to her – the idea that _she_ could have that kind of influence on him… on _anyone_.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to give him what she hoped looked like a sympathetic smile and reaching for his hand again.

He wasn't upset with _her,_ of course, more at the doctor's stern and eerily observant warnings, but he couldn't help but frown slightly at her.

"No, you're not," he replied quickly, his voice a little sharper than he'd intended.

She bit her lip to stifle a laugh that she knew he wouldn't appreciate. He looked _so_ cute just then, but she didn't think that was what he wanted to hear.

He looked even more surprised than she did when he snapped at her, and even though she didn't look upset – What _was_ that look on her face, anyway? Why did she look almost… amused? – he immediately felt guilty.

" _I'm_ sorry," he said, looking down and sighing heavily. He needed to get ahold of himself, and he knew it. "It's not your fault. You've been nothing but nice to me."

Shaking her head and smiling at him again, she squeezed his hand. "I know it's not what you want to hear. I've never once seen you follow a doctor's orders when he or she told you to 'take it easy.' I'm pretty sure that 'take it easy' isn't in your vocabulary. But I also know that I want you to get better. I mean, what can I say? I'm selfish. I want you healthy so that I know I don't have to worry about you."

"You don't have to worry about me," he told her softly, feeling himself calming down quickly after just those few words from her. How in the world did she have that effect on him, anyway?

Her smile grew wider then. "You know that thing where you worry about me? Which, by the way, I still don't understand, but that's _not_ what we're talking about right now…" She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to reply, but she simply shook her head and continued talking. "Well, that worry thing goes both ways. And I know that I probably give you more _reasons_ to worry than you give me…"

She arched her eyebrow at him sternly when he opened his mouth to reply again, once again ignoring him. "But that doesn't mean I don't. Worry about you, I mean. I don't actually need a reason, and besides, Sandstorm is reason enough." She stopped for a second, feeling a shiver run down her spine, but forced it from her mind. "I guess that's what you do when you care about someone, right? And especially now. After this past week… after _yesterday_ … I can't even imagine…" Suddenly, her voice cracked and then trailed off mid-sentence, but the meaning was clear.

"So, if you don't want to follow the doctor's orders of taking it easy for your _own_ good – which you _should_ , by the way, because helping you heal is kind of a doctor's whole point… If you won't do it for _you,_ then do it for _me_." She looked at him defiantly, as if she dared him to disagree.

"Jane, I—" he started, but that was as far as he got.

"Oh, trust me, I get it. Because if it was me sitting there, and the doctor told me to take it easy, I would have just as little intention of doing so as you do right now." She gave him a pointed look, noticing that he feigned innocence but that he looked more than a little surprised at the same time, which told her that she'd hit the nail on the head. "But I also know that if that was the case, you would do whatever you had to do to force me to do exactly what the doctor said. Not because you wanted to piss me off, but because you care. Which, again, I don't understand—"

" _Jane_ —" There was exasperation in his voice this time, and she rolled her eyes.

Holding up her hands in surrender, she backtracked slightly. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry…" She shook her head and sighed.

"Can I talk now?" he asked when she didn't immediately continue speaking again.

"Yes, sorry," she replied sheepishly, smiling at the realization that she'd cut him off more than once. "I think you get the point."

"I do," he replied, squeezing her hand. "And you're right… about pretty much all of it. And I love you for it."

She'd expected him to argue, which was why she'd insisted on getting everything out before he interrupted her, so she was taken aback when he agreed so easily.

"I… what? You think I'm right?" she asked, blinking in surprise.

"Yes," he replied with a smile. "I was trying to tell you that, but you wouldn't let me talk."

Smiling self-consciously, she looked away for a few seconds, then back at him slowly. "Sorry," she said softly.

He shook his head at her. "You're absolutely right. If things were reversed, I would insist that you rest, and I wouldn't take no for an answer," he affirmed. "So the least I can do is be cooperative… especially after everything I've put you through lately."

She was annoyed to feel her eyes getting misty yet _again_ , and she wondered when she'd become so damn sentimental. There was _nothing_ to cry about, for God's sake!

Breathing in slowly, she looked up at him with a smile, not speaking until she felt herself regain her composure, so that she'd be able to reply without making herself overly emotional all over again. When she did finally answer, she kept it simple. "Good," she told him.

A moment later, before either of them had thought of anything else to say, the door swung open and Alicia walked in, smiling at them. "Good news, Kurt," she said, holding up a stack of papers. "I have your discharge papers right here." Jane and Kurt both smiled brightly at her as she walked around to the other side of the bed. "As soon as we go through these, you'll be a free man." After a few seconds, she added quickly, "Not that you weren't technically free to go before… Uh, you know what I mean…"

He grinned at her, nodding his head. "I got it," he assured her, just happy that he'd be getting to go home sooner than later. He'd had enough of the hospital for a while.

Ten minutes later, Alicia walked out of the room, telling him that he could change back into his own clothes from the hospital gown, and then the two of them should sit tight while she got him a wheelchair. Hospital policy required Kurt to be wheeled to the front door and then he could walk from there, since there was nothing wrong with his legs. Moving slowly, he took the small bag of clean clothes that Zapata had brought him and walked to the bathroom.

"Do you… need help?" Jane asked hesitantly, not knowing how he would react to the question.

Smiling with only a hint of tension, he replied, "Well, I guess we'll find out…" With that, he closed the door as she perched on the edge of the bed to wait. She wondered if he'd actually let her help him if he discovered that he couldn't do it himself. After everything they'd been through, including the whole issue of the zipper on her dress, she liked to think so. But she supposed that she'd find out shortly.

Kurt was taking his time, trying to avoid any sudden movements that would cause the kind of sharp pain he'd already experienced a few times. After all, he hadn't yet discovered the limits of what he could do without hurting himself, and he wasn't exactly excited about doing so the hard way. Though slight bending and stretching was required, he managed to get his pants on, slowly but surely. It quickly became apparent after that, however, that he had almost the same problem that Jane had had, and he couldn't help but chuckle slightly, despite his annoyance.

The hospital gown was tied in the back in two different places. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have been a problem to reach back and simply tug at the strings to untie them, but in this case… it didn't seem worth the risk, considering the fact that he could already feel the strain when his arms moved even halfway to where they would need to be to perform that particular task. No, he'd be better off asking Jane for help.

Normally, this situation would have annoyed him. He liked to think that he didn't have a problem delegating responsibility when it was necessary and work-related, however, he could admit to himself that Nas hadn't been wrong when she'd pinned him as a control freak. From his perspective, it was simply easier to do things himself and ensure they were done right than to ask someone else to do them and have to wonder how they'd be done. Having to ask for help also meant having to admit that he couldn't do something on his own. Stoic, controlled Agent Weller prided himself on his ability to get the job done efficiently and independently. Asking for help? It was a nuisance, especially for something small. This, of course, was pretty much the definition of a control freak, no matter how much he hated to admit it.

But of course, Jane was the exception. The fact that this was almost exactly the same thing that she'd needed his help with – twice – wasn't lost on him, and he had a feeling that she would enjoy it as well. Besides, asking Jane for help was different. Well, maybe it wasn't really different, but it _felt_ different, though he couldn't quite pinpoint exactly _why_. Maybe, like everything else, it was just because she was Jane.

Pushing the bathroom door open, he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him. He was relieved to notice that Alicia hadn't come back yet – not that he was asking anything of Jane that required _privacy_ , necessarily, but… he just felt more comfortable doing this with only Jane present.

Seeing him still in his hospital gown over his sweatpants, she got the message quickly and hopped down from the bed, walking toward him with a smile. She knew that he'd probably be frustrated that he couldn't do it himself, but she felt as though she'd relied on him so much herself that she was glad to be able to return the favor.

"Need help?" she asked without any hint of teasing.

Smiling at her in amusement, he nodded slightly. "Yeah, interestingly enough I have almost the same problem you had at the party," he told her.

Her interest was piqued, and when he turned around so that she could see his back, she saw exactly what he meant. Chuckling softly, she moved her hands gently to his back, by the tie at the top, then tugged gently at the bow there. Her fingers slowly grazed the skin along the edges of the gown, going unnecessarily slowly, before moving down to the middle of his back. Once she'd untied the second tie, her fingers then moved carefully across the bandage that was wrapped around his mid-section. Finally, she withdrew her hands reluctantly from him, having no other excuse to keep them there. Reaching for his small bag, which hung on a hook on the wall, he took out a soft white t-shirt and turned around to face her.

"I haven't tried this yet, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say it might be tricky, based on how it's going so far," he said, smiling at her as he raised his eyebrows, one higher than the other, as he'd done before. It was such an endearing expression, one that she hadn't seen in what felt like a very long time, and it was made even more so because he wasn't trying to insist that he didn't need help. Quite the opposite actually – he seemed to be assuming that he _would_ need her help, and was letting her stand by to do just that. She couldn't explain why, but it made her very happy.

 _It's because he's showing you just how much he trusts you,_ the voice in her head suggested, which sounded like a reasonable explanation to her.

She reached forward and took the t-shirt from him, and he slid the gown off of his arms. Having already seen the bandage that was wrapped around a good portion of his mid-section from the back, she wasn't surprised at what she saw on the front of him. Of course, it wasn't surprise that rippled through her momentarily, but she kept her mind focused on the task at hand. He took the t-shirt back from her, shaking it gently and letting it fall out of its folds slowly. Then, almost as if in slow motion, he reached up with it towards his head. The t-shirt wasn't quite all the way up when he stopped, making a quiet noise and then slowly lowering his arms again.

"Not quite there yet," he said, shaking his head and handing her the shirt.

Taking the t-shirt and smiling at him as she replied with the slightest hint of teasing, "Are you sure you don't just like the attention?"

"Oh, I like the attention," he said without hesitation, "but I think people generally try to get _that_ kind of attention when taking their clothes _off_ , not putting them on."

Jane grinned, shaking her head and shrugging. "Well, you know, whatever works," she replied. "Besides, since when were we like most people?" He smiled back at her, once again amazed by how comfortable the situation felt to him. With anyone else, it would have been painfully awkward.

Lifting his shirt up towards his head, with her fingers spreading the neck slightly so that she wouldn't have to tug it down as hard to get his head through the hole, she then tried to smooth it out slightly, wondering if he'd be able to get his arms through next. His right arm came up first, slowly, and he didn't seem to have a problem getting it into his shirt. His left arm followed, just as slowly, but because his movement was now slightly more restricted by the shirt, the rest of his body already inside, the look on his face became slightly pained as he tried to get his arm into the right position. Jane held the fabric out so that it didn't bunch, trying to make it easier, but there wasn't a lot she could do at that point. Finally, after moving in what felt like extra slow motion, he had the shirt on.

"Thanks," he said, suddenly realizing that he was standing in front of her for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. Up until then, he'd always been sitting beside her, and because of his injuries, he'd been unable to turn towards her. She realized the same thing at almost the same time, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, albeit very slowly and cautiously. She did the same, much more gently than usual because her arms naturally fell around the middle of him, and she didn't want to accidentally hurt him. Despite the abundance of caution on both of their parts, this familiar gesture was exactly what had been missing between them since the explosion.

Jane sighed heavily with relief, suddenly far more emotional that she'd expected to be as once again she was hit with the emotion of the past twenty-four hours all over again. She felt her breathing suddenly become erratic, gulping slightly for air as she leaned against him. Almost as if reading her mind – or maybe he suddenly had the same realization – she felt him pull her just a little tighter, pressing his face into her hair. She struggled to breathe evenly, but faltered several times despite her best efforts. He moved slightly, so that his cheek brushed against her temple, attempting to get as close to her as possible. Somehow she just knew that he understood, and that they were having the same thoughts of relief over the fact that he was alive.

"It's okay," he whispered, to which she could only nod, not trusting her voice. They stood that way for a few minutes, simply breathing in and out together.

Their arms had begun to relax slightly when the door to the room opened again, and there stood Alicia, smiling at them with a wheelchair in front of her. Jane turned to look over her shoulder and she and Kurt slowly stepped back from each other.

"I'll bet you two are ready to get out of here," Alicia ventured with a grin. "And right at the end of my shift, too. So let's get this show on the road." Jane stepped aside as Kurt nodded and walked slowly toward her, not necessarily looking forward to the part where he had to ride in a wheelchair, but looking very much forward to going home.

"Do you have everything?" Jane asked. Kurt turned back and thought for a second.

"I need the bag Zapata brought me, that had my clean clothes," he said, looking at it pointedly on the floor, but unable to reach down to pick it up. Jane walked over and got it instead, handing it to him. His sneakers sat just nearby, and he slipped his feet into them slowly. Without waiting for him to say anything, Jane crouched down and tied them for him. He couldn't help but think that of the whole ordeal of getting dressed, watching her tie his shoes had been the thing he disliked the most. There was just something about not being able to tie his own shoes that bothered him even more than needing help with his shirt. Despite the fact that Alicia was standing there, watching and waiting, his hand reached for Jane's and squeezed in thanks, then slowly dropped back to his side.

Picking up the small plastic bag of the few possessions that had been in his pockets when he'd been admitted to the hospital, which had hung inside a small cupboard against the wall, she glanced back at him, then around the room.

"That should be everything, right?" she asked.

"Yep," he agreed. Walking toward Alicia with a grimace, he turned around and sat down in the wheelchair.

Alicia looked at Jane over Kurt's head. "Do you want to drive?" she asked, at which Jane smiled.

"Sure," she said, as Alicia maneuvered the wheelchair out of the doorway, backwards into the hall and turned it in the direction they were going to go. When Jane reached them, Alicia stepped out of the way, and Jane leaned down just beside Kurt's head to whisper, "I've never driven one of these before, but don't worry, I'm usually a pretty good driver."

Kurt chuckled, replying, "I trust you… but please don't hit any pedestrians."

"I'll do my best," she replied with a smile, kissing him on the cheek before standing up again. "You'd better lead the way, or we'll end up lost in here forever," she told Alicia, who walked beside them to the elevator. Jane had no memory of how she'd gotten to that part of the hospital, since she'd been so distraught when she'd been directed to the waiting room the previous day, and again from there to Kurt's room, and she hadn't left since then except to wander to the cafeteria. It was strange, and slightly unsettling, that none of it looked at all familiar. _That_ sensation was a little toofamiliar to her, of course, since it reminded her of so many other time when she didn't remember something but felt like she should.

Jane had gotten a text from Patterson earlier, telling her that Reade would pick them up. As promised, when they went out through the front door, they found Reade standing in the chilly evening air. "Perfect timing," he told them, "I just got here. I'm parked right over there." He turned and pointed over his shoulder at a dark SUV slightly further along the curb.

"Alright, well Kurt, it's been a pleasure – for me, at least. Best of luck with things, and _please_ ,take it easy," Alicia told him with a stern but kind look as he stood up slowly from the wheelchair.

He nodded at her with a smile. "I'll do my best," he told her. "Thanks for everything."

Alicia looked at Jane then. "Good luck keeping him from overdoing it," she told her. "I somehow get the feeling that you're going to need it."

Jane chuckled, nodding her head. "Yeah, I get that same feeling…" she replied, glancing at Kurt beside her and shaking her head at him. Looking back at Alicia, she added, "Thanks for your help. And tell Natalie thank you, as well, if you see her. She was really nice to me when I was completely freaking out." She shivered slightly, remembering the previous night.

"Will do," Alicia smiled. "Bye." She smiled at each of them once more, and then turned around, walking back inside with the empty wheelchair and leaving Kurt, Jane and Reade standing by the curb.

"Let's get out of here," Kurt said, taking Jane's hand and squeezing it tightly as they walked slowly to the familiar black SUV. She squeezed his hand right back, breathing a sigh of relief.

Reade climbed into the driver's seat a moment later, watching the other two through the car windows. They were standing outside, negotiating who was going to sit where – that much he could tell without being able to hear their conversation.

"I'm fine, Jane, I can sit in the back just as easily as the front," Kurt was arguing. "You could sit in the back _with_ me, you know."

As nice as that sounded, it was also just a little uncomfortable. It wasn't as though Reade was their driver, after all. She shook her head, not allowing him to talk her out of what she knew was best for him. "Kurt, come on," she sighed in exasperation. "There's more room in front, and you're less likely to bump against anything or have to sit hunched over… I know, the car's not small, but you're underestimating how stiff you are." She looked at the stubborn look on his face, feeling herself getting more and more frustrated with him. "I'm _trying_ to look out for you, stupid," she growled, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, and with enough emphasis that he could see that he wasn't going to win this argument.

"Alright, alright, fine," he sighed. He put his hands on the sides of her shoulders and leaned forward to kiss the bridge of her nose. "You win, okay?" he whispered, letting his hands slide down her arms and then dropping them so that he could turn around stiffly and open the front door of the car. She smiled in satisfaction, glad that she'd gotten him to see reason in the end. Or maybe just that he'd gotten tired of hearing her never ending string of arguments. Whichever one had been what worked, it didn't matter to her.

Climbing into the back seat, she smiled at Reade, who'd turned to glance at her over his shoulder. She slid into the middle seat, so that she could be more a part of the conversation in the front, and had her seatbelt buckled before Kurt finished with his.

"Everyone ready?" Reade asked.

"I'm more than ready to get away from this hospital," Kurt announced.

"That's _for sure,_ " Jane agreed emphatically, thinking about what a difference twenty-four hours could make.

As they pulled out into the light traffic of the Thursday evening after Christmas, Reade glanced back at Jane again. "Jane, Patterson said she was going to text you this afternoon. Did you get it?"

"Yep, I got it," Jane assured him. She'd seen the strange text, something about "Tell Weller not to worry about stopping for groceries on the way back – it's taken care of," when she'd walked down to the cafeteria for coffee.

"Good," he replied, not giving anything away. "The ladies apparently have everything under control back at your place," he said, looking over at Kurt. "Or at least, that's what they keep telling me."

Kurt looked at him curiously, glancing slowly over his shoulder in Jane's direction to see if he'd actually be able to turn that far without straining himself. When he found that he could see her out of the corner of his eye without causing himself any pain, he turned farther, to find his limit. Jane could sense that that was what he was doing, and was immensely glad she'd decided to sit in the middle seat. When he was finally turned towards her so that he was looking fully over his shoulder at her, a hint of confusion in his eyes, she simply smiled at him.

"Don't look at me," she told Kurt. "I don't know anything... Except that apparently it's under control." He made a dissatisfied face, and she smiled at him sympathetically. "I know," she told him soothingly, "you only consider it under control if it's under _your_ control."

Reade attempted to stifle a laugh, but was unsuccessful, and Kurt looked at her as if he wasn't sure whether to agree or argue with her. Jane knew that she'd been pushing her luck a little with that comment, and that Kurt was getting _better_ about his need to control things… little by little, anyway. She just hadn't been able to help herself.

"Sorry, sorry," she said with a sheepish grin. Kurt just shook his head at her, saying nothing. He glanced out the window, relieved to finally be going home, and thinking about the logistics of _being_ at home for the first time.

"Hey, we might need to stop at the store—" he began. This time it was Reade who cut him off, not Jane.

"Man, trust me when I tell you that this is all organized. First, we're stopping at Jane's house. It was unanimously agreed upon that she's going to crash at your place and keep you company, and just generally make sure you don't try to sneak into the office – because we all know that you would do just that if left to your own devices. Jane told us that that was your plan anyway. So she's going to grab some of her stuff, and then we're going to head to your place. And no, we know you haven't been home for more than an hour or so in the past week, and no, we don't need to stop at the store. Once again, it's under control."

Kurt looked back at Reade in surprise, and Reade just shook his head, turning back to the road. "Don't look at _me_. This was _not_ my idea. The ladies just told me what they wanted me to do in all this. You know how they are…"

Since Kurt did, indeed, know how Patterson and Zapata could be when they got an idea going, he wondered just exactly what they'd be walking into. Then another logistical question occurred to him.

"Hey, do you know if my car's still at the office?" he asked. "I drove in yesterday morning, but obviously I didn't make it back to the office yesterday to drive it back home…"

"Not that you are going to be driving in the near future," Reade replied to his passenger, to his passenger's annoyance, "but I believe that the ladies took care of that as well."

"I swore you guys had actual _work_ to do," Kurt grumbled. He knew that he should be grateful, but he was getting a little agitated with the uncertainty of exactly _what_ was going on at his apartment.

"Oh, we've been working," Reade replied. "All this other stuff happened in the past hour or so."

Once again genuinely surprised, Kurt could think of nothing else to say. Jane, on the other hand, could sense Kurt's frustration, and knew that at least part of it came from the fact that he wasn't used to having to depend on other people for the basics. She could most certainly relate to that. Besides that, he _was_ tired and probably in pain, after all.

"Reade, this is all so thoughtful of you guys. Even if the girls were the brains behind it… we really appreciate everything you've done for us… yesterday and today." She flashed back to sitting in the hospital waiting room, which was a hazy memory because of how distraught she'd been, and to the fact that the three of them had taken turns sitting beside her, so that she wouldn't have to be there alone. After everything she'd done to them, and how much she knew that they hadn't wanted to forgive her… they had come around, and it meant the world to her.

"Don't sweat it, Jane," Reade said. "We're a team. That's what teams do."

Jane felt her breath catch in her throat, and for a second she wondered if she was going to cry. After all, to have Kurt say something like that to her, while he was completely wonderful… it meant something different, and was even more surprising, coming from Reade.

Reade didn't realize how his words affected her, but Kurt did. He turned around slowly in his seat to look at her once again, seeing her eyes sparkling, slightly moist yet again. Because of the angle, he didn't trust his ability to reach his hand back to her without pulling on his mid-section the wrong way, which once again annoyed him to no end, so he had to settle for a knowing look in her direction. In the seconds that they looked at each other, their eyes spoke volumes. She knew what he was trying to say, he knew, just like he knew what _she_ wanted to say.

The drive to Jane's place was mostly quiet after that. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, and darkness had already long since descended on the streets, giving the neon lights of the storefronts they passed a mesmerizing gleam. Jane and Kurt were both exhausted, and Reade hadn't exactly had a day off either. The silence wasn't awkward, however. They all knew each other well enough that they didn't need to fill the silence just for the sake of filling the silence.

When they pulled into a parking space in front of Jane's place, it became clear immediately that she wasn't going inside alone. Kurt moved to get out of the car before Reade, who looked back at him in surprise.

"What are you doing?" Reade asked him incredulously. "If there _is_ someone lying in wait, what exactly are you going to _do_? No offense Weller, but you're not going to be much use in there. Not," he said, looking at Jane quickly, "that Jane can't defend herself, of course…"

"Then I guess you'd better come with me," Kurt grumbled, knowing that Reade was right, but also knowing that there was no way that he _wasn't_ going in there with her.

Jane was standing outside the car, waiting for the boys to decide what was going on. "You guys don't need to come with me. I never really got a chance to unpack from the weekend. All my dirty clothes are still in my bag. I just need to grab my toiletries and shove them back into the bag… if it's okay if I wash some stuff at your place?" She looked at Kurt sheepishly, and he remembered the conversation they'd had when she'd been packing, in which she'd told him that she barely had any clothes to speak of. Basically, pretty much everything she had was in that bag, so there was nothing else she could bring even if she wanted to.

"Of course," he smiled at her, "I'll even let you do _my_ laundry, too, if you want."

Jane made a face at him, but then couldn't help moving closer to him and smiling. She felt as though she should argue, or at least _pretend_ to be offended, but in reality she was still so relieved that he was alive that she would happily have done his laundry. Of course, she probably would have done that for him _before_ he'd gotten himself injured too, if he'd needed her to, for whatever reason. Now… well, suffice it to say that he could probably get away with more than usual with her. Hooking her arm though his, she walked slowly beside him until they reached the door.

While she realized why Reade felt that he needed to come inside, she wished it could have been just herself and Kurt. She was looking forward with impatience to getting back to his place and being able to relax, just the two of them, even if all they did was sit and watch TV.

"When were you last here?" Reade asked her as she took out her keys. Jane thought for a minute, before she could remember. "Yesterday morning," she replied.

"It was secure yesterday morning, nothing out of the ordinary," Kurt said before realizing that he'd just given Reade more personal information than he'd meant to. To his credit, Reade did not react to this statement the way the other two members of their team would have, simply nodding. Zapata and Patterson would probably have had at least a few _very_ interested follow up questions, after all.

"Is there a specific threat, as far as we know?" Jane asked.

"Other than Weller having been almost blown up yesterday?" Reade asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

Jane felt Kurt pull her closer protectively, but she didn't look at him. "Fair enough," she said in Reade's direction, letting herself lean closer to Kurt, who was hovering close beside her as she turned the key in the lock. Pushing the door open slowly, she stepped back so that Reade could go in first. She could just as easily have checked the house herself, of course, but she was enjoying the chance to hang back with Kurt, and Reade seemed to be enjoying the chance to take point on their behalf.

As they watched him advance through the house, then go up the stairs, Jane and Kurt stepped into the entryway, Jane closing the door behind them. Knowing that Reade would be back in seconds, she turned towards Kurt and leaned closer to him until their noses touched, closing her eyes. A split second later, he leaned down the rest of the way and kissed her quickly, then pulled back to look into her eyes. Hearing footsteps, Jane turned towards the stairs, where Reade was now walking back down from the second floor. She turned so that she could lean back slightly against Kurt, squeezing his arm before letting go so that she could do what she'd come to do, and get her things.

"It's clear up there," Reade told her as he passed her on the way to the kitchen.

"I'll be right back," Jane told them, "I'll just grab my bag."

She was up the stairs and back down again, toiletries added to the bag that she'd had with her to Clearfield but hadn't had the energy to _un_ pack, in under two minutes. Kurt was waiting by the door, frowning, and Reade had just walked back from the kitchen. They nodded at each other, silently agreeing that everything there was fine.

Jane, on the other hand, suddenly a feeling of déjà vu, a sensation that reminded her of the time after she'd moved to her second safe house, after Markos had broken into her first one. She remembered the insecurity of realizing that her safe house wasn't actually _safe_ … Now, once again, something had happened – the explosion – to remind them that they _still_ weren't safe, even with Sandstorm significantly weakened. They wouldn't really be safe until it was dismantled completely, she knew, and maybe not even then. That was the worst part, the nagging worry that it would never be enough.

Or, the explosion had just been a coincidence.

Except that Jane was pretty sure that _nothing_ in her life so far had been a coincidence. No, for her it seemed that frustratingly enough, everything that had happened to her, both what she could remember and what she couldn't, had had been orchestrated by Shepherd. There were no coincidences. Shepherd did not allow things to just _happen_. The more they found out about her past as well as Kurt's, the more certain they became about this.

"You ready?" Kurt asked her, looking at her worriedly. She'd stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and she realized that she'd probably been standing there for more than a few seconds, which was enough to cause him concern. Attempting to shake off the feeling of dread, she nodded and stepped toward the door.

"Yes," she replied confidently, patting the duffle bag on her shoulder and hoping to put off a discussion about what was on her mind at least until they were alone. She turned the handle on the doorknob and opened it, the chilly wind outside rushing in to greet them. They walked back to the car, Reade jogging ahead to get out of the cold while Jane walked more slowly with Kurt. The temperature had been dropping quickly since the sun had set, and it hadn't exactly been warm to start with.

As they walked, Jane couldn't help but feel as if something was off somehow, but she chalked it up to the fact that the wind was picking up and she was shivering through her not-warm-enough layers. She did her best not to let Kurt see how cold she was, not wanting a lecture about how she needed warmer clothes, and vowing to put on one of the sweaters of his that she knew was in her bag when they got to his place.

Back in the car, Jane set the duffle bag on the seat beside her and settled back into the middle of the back seat, once again feeling miles away from Kurt. Though she'd dismissed the strange sensation she'd been feeling as a product of the cold a minute ago, even now, inside the relatively warm car, she felt it again. Glancing through the window behind her, she saw nothing out of the ordinary… nothing to suggest that there was anything wrong except just a strange feeling.

"Guys," Jane said absently, still staring out into the night, carefully checking for anything strange on one side of her and then the other.

Reade and Kurt both turned to look at her, and immediately noticed that she was distracted by something. It was clear to Kurt just from looking at her that something wasn't right. "Jane, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Does anything feel off to you?" she asked, staring hard as her eyes moved over every detail around them.

Kurt looked in the direction that she was looking, while Reade turned to check the opposite direction. None of them could identify anything out of the ordinary, but Jane continued to feel like there was something just, for lack of a better description, "off."

"Did you see something, Jane?" Reade asked, looking back at her.

"No," she replied slowly, "I just… I don't know. It doesn't feel right." Her eyes finally met Reade's, and then Kurt's. "Maybe I'm just tired. We should go."

Reade started the car, checking around one more time. Even though they couldn't identify anything out of the ordinary, he knew that Jane's intuition was seldom wrong and couldn't help but be concerned.

Continuing to look at her with concern, Kurt also doubted very much that whatever Jane had felt had been _nothing_. "Maybe," he said, "but I'll get someone to come back and look around in the morning, just to be sure." She smiled at him in appreciation, touched that he would take her completely unsubstantiated concern so seriously.

Jane watched carefully through the back window as they drove to Kurt's apartment, unable to let her guard down even for a minute. When she grabbed her bag and climbed out of the car, she looked around suspiciously once again. Pushing himself up slowly to stand, Kurt watched her look around at the night.

"Does something feel off here, too?" he asked.

With a sigh, Jane just shrugged. "I don't know if I'm just paranoid now, or what," she admitted.

"Considering everything you've been through, and everything we've learned about Sandstorm, I don't think anyone can call you paranoid," Reade told her as he joined the other two beside the car. "At the very least, I think you'd be considered 'justifiably cautious.'" Jane smiled at him gratefully.

"Well, I've been instructed to escort you guys upstairs, so let's get moving," Reade told them. "It's getting cold out here." Jane and Kurt exchanged a baffled look and shrugged, got the rest of their things from Reade's car and they all headed towards the building. Once again, Jane hung back beside Kurt, this time taking his hand. After all, each member of the team had seen them together at the party, and had then seen her fall apart at the hospital while waiting to hear whether he would be alright, so she figured that seeing them holding hands wouldn't exactly be a surprise.

Reade walked quickly to the door, holding it open for them. As many misgivings as he'd initially had about the two of them – and he had had _many_ – he could now admit that his initial assessment had been wrong. No, Kurt wasn't the same around Jane as he had been before she'd shown up. Maybe at first her presence had compromised his judgement, but now they worked so seamlessly together, as one unit, it was almost impossible to believe that Jane hadn't always been there.

Upstairs, they walked off the elevator and heard noise before they'd reached Kurt's door. Reade simply rolled his eyes. Kurt raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Are they having a party in my apartment without us?" he asked Reade.

Chuckling to himself, Reade shook his head. "It does sound that way," he replied.

Kurt pushed the door open, and Jane and Reade followed him inside. As soon as the door swung open, Zapata and Patterson turned towards it, exclaiming, "Surprise!" and then laughing at themselves. Jane and Kurt smiled, looking at them in amusement, not missing the beers that each of them was holding.

"Please tell me you got food? That was the original plan, right? Not just alcohol? Which… people on heavy medication _can't have_ …" Reade said, walking towards his partners in crime.

"Of course!" Patterson exclaimed, looking offended. "We already put it away. We were just… passing the time while we waited." They both grinned, making a conscious effort to calm down.

"Weller, we know you need to rest, we just wanted to stick around and say welcome home. We're really glad you're okay," Zapata told him, suddenly looking serious. Her eyes darted to Jane, and her smile warmed before she looked back at Kurt.

"Thanks, Zapata, Patterson… Reade," he said to each of them in turn. "Thanks for looking out for Jane, and for giving me such an, uh… _enthusiastic_ welcome home." He squeezed Jane's hand in his, thinking that he was already ready to sit down. Deep down he was relieved that the doctor had so adamantly lectured him about taking it easy for the foreseeable future.

"We're going to get out of your hair," Patterson promised, "but we just wanted to be sure you know that you shouldn't need to go out for food for a while." Jane noticed that the other two women were finishing their beers, and picking up their jackets. Reade was already eyeing the door. Apparently they really didn't intend to stick around long. As nice a surprise as it had been to see them, she had to admit that she was glad that they were leaving.

"Thanks," Kurt said, looking more and more tired to Jane. "I appreciate it. I'm sure I'll be talking to you all tomorrow."

"Count on it," Patterson said with a smile. "And I'd hug you but… I'm going to refrain, since I don't want to hurt you."

"Same here," Zapata said, moving towards the door.

"Uh, just for the record, I had no plans to hug you," Reade deadpanned, at which time the others couldn't help but laugh.

"Let's get out of here, you guys," Zapata told the other two. "It's late. Some of us are going to be at work bright and early tomorrow. And by some of us," Zapata said, pausing for emphasis as she looked Kurt straight in the eyes, "I do _not_ mean either of you two."

"I know, I know…" Kurt replied, pretending to be annoyed. "You're drunk with power already, aren't you? With me out of the way, you plan to take over."

"It's almost like you can see the future," Zapata told him with wide eyes, again barely able to keep a straight face.

"Get out of here," Kurt told them. "And thank you guys. For everything."

The trio laughed as they went out through the door, and Jane reluctantly dropped Kurt's hand to walk across the room and lock the door behind them.

"I think it's about time we went to bed. What do you think?" she asked him, crossing the room again, now holding both of their bags. She stopped only inches in front of him.

"I think you have excellent instincts, as always," he told her, leaning down to kiss her now that they were finally, really, alone and there was no danger of anyone – not a doctor or a nurse or anyone else – interrupting them. Pulling back a minute later, he smiled at her, feeling tired just from the exertion of the trip home from the hospital.

"You've got pretty good instincts, yourself," she told him, stepping forward and tugging on his hand. "Now let's get ready for bed."

He followed a step behind her as she walked slowly towards his bedroom. Unlike the last time she'd crashed at his place, the night before they'd left for Clearfield, she didn't hesitate at all. There was no awkwardness, wasn't even a thought in her mind that she would sleep anywhere but beside him.

Because… of course.


	43. I Know

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)**_

Jane set her bag down on Kurt's bed and rummaged through it, looking for something clean to sleep in. Make that _anything_ clean to sleep in. No, it appeared that she was going to have to choose from various degrees of dirty clothes, but nothing that was actually _clean_. Somehow they'd put lots of snow-drenched clothes in the dryer in Clearfield, but hadn't actually _washed_ anything. Without realizing it, she sighed heavily, pushing her hair behind her ear and glaring at the contents of her bag.

Kurt was moving slowly around the room. Jane had set down his two small bags on the bed as well, and he'd leaned down just enough to check the contents and see what needed to come out, and what could stay in there at least until tomorrow. At that moment, all he could think about was that the less details he tried to deal with, the sooner he could lie down. Putting things away could wait.

When he heard Jane sigh, he looked up in surprise, suddenly pulled from his thoughts. She was looking at the contents of her bag with hostility. It only took a second before he made the connection between what he saw in front of him and her comment earlier about not having anything clean. Moving slowly to his dresser, he opened several drawers and removed what he needed, closing them again carefully. All of his movements were slow and deliberate, since he hoped to avoid straining anything unnecessarily.

Jane's head had fallen down almost against her chest, and she was staring at her bag with increasing frustration, not wanting to admit defeat yet again. This wasn't quite "zipper in the locker room" level breakdown inducing, but it wasn't too far from it. Logically, she knew that it wasn't an insurmountable problem, and something in the back of her mind whispered to her that she should simply ask for help… but the idea was so new to her, that her first instinct was still to fight that thought until she had no choice but to give in in defeat.

He walked up beside her and simply held out the things he'd taken out of his dresser for her – a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers. At first she didn't acknowledge him, since her vision had tunneled to only one narrow area in front of her. Only when he held the clothing directly in her line of vision did she look up at him, a small but grateful smile on her face.

"I can't guarantee the boxers will fit," he said quietly. "Actually, there's a good chance they won't…" he added, looking down at her. She wore baggy clothes to hide her too-thin frame, but when he looked closely, he could see how much skinnier she was than she had once been. Not wanting her to feel like he was criticizing her, or to make her feel more self-conscious about something that he already knew was a sensitive subject, he added quickly, "But I'm _not_ going to complain if your pants fall down…" He grinned at her, trying to make a joke out of it because he knew how much the subject of eating bothered her, and he felt like there was little else he could do to help.

She rolled her eyes good naturedly at him, grinning against her will as she turned to face him. "I would punch you, but that might be considered mean since you just had surgery," she told him. Looking at him thoughtfully for a few seconds, she asked, "What should I do instead?"

"Definitely no punching," he told her, wrapping his arms around her slowly. "I'm not going to be up for sparring anytime soon, unfortunately."

"I'll go easy on you," she promised, her arms already just barely encircling his lower back. She was afraid to hold on too tight, even though it felt strange to be _so_ gentle. What felt like much too soon, she let her arms fall back to her sides and said, "Thank you, for the clothes. You should get ready for bed first. You've been on your feet for a long time now. Aren't you exhausted?"

"I am, actually," he said, nodding in agreement. Taking a small bundle of clothes, he made his way slowly out of the room, into the living room and toward the bathroom. She watched him go, smiling unconsciously, and then pushed the door halfway closed before quickly changing into the shirt he'd just given her. It was just the perfect amount of "too big," what other women might have described as a _boyfriend shirt_. Jane may have as well, if she even remembered that concept – which she didn't, of course. The boxers, on the other hand, were too big, just as Kurt predicted. However, as she was scanning the room absently, trying to find a solution to the problem, she spotted a safety pin on his dresser. She plucked it from where it sat, fastening it in the center of the back and thus securing her new "shorts." She dropped the outfit that she had just taken off into her bag, along with the rest of her dirty clothes.

A minute later, there was a knock on the half closed door, and Kurt slowly peeked around the corner. "You mean I missed it?" he asked, pretending to be disappointed when he saw that she had already changed her clothes. Jane stuck out her tongue at him, smiling gleefully.

"Afraid so," she replied, shaking her head. "You're going to have to get faster, Weller." There wasn't a hint of awkwardness in their good-natured, joking conversation about the idea that he should have been faster so that he could have watched her change, because to Jane, it was by now a given that he wouldn't do anything that would make her uncomfortable if there was a way to avoid it.

Kurt sighed, pretending to be sorely disappointed. That was when Jane noticed that he had changed into his pajama pants, but was still wearing the same shirt. _Of course,_ she realized. _He needs help with the shirt_. She walked towards him and in seconds she was standing directly in front of him once again, smiling without even realizing it just because of their proximity to each other.

"Hey, why aren't your pants falling down?" he asked, again feigning disappointment and tugging gently at the bottom of the left side. His finger brushed against her leg ever so slightly before his hand moved back to his side, and he shook his head sadly, sighing, and adding, "This really isn't my day."

"The magic of safety pins," Jane told him with a smile.

"Safety pins?" Kurt asked incredulously. "But we've always been friends until now… What did I do to them to deserve their revenge?"

"Very funny," she grinned at him, stepping even closer.

"That stuff looks good on you," he told her. He couldn't help but feel a certain unexpected warmth in his chest at the sight of her wearing his clothes.

Glancing down, she felt herself blushing a little bit as she raised her eyes again slowly. "The shirt is comfortable," she replied, "I like it."

"Well, I have lots more where that came from," he told her with a smile. He stopped short of saying that he'd be more than happy for her wearing his clothes to be a regular occurrence, but he was definitely thinking it. As he looked into her eyes, he had a feeling that he wasn't the only one.

Studying his face intently, she could see just how tired he looked then. "You need some help getting changed, right?" she asked.

"Yep, I do," he told her. "Are you available?"

"For you? _Always_ ," she replied sweetly. "But can you please sit down? You have a little bit of a height advantage."

"Fair enough," he agreed, stepping towards the bed and turning so that he could sit down. He lowered himself slowly onto the bed, his knees slightly apart, his eyes locked on her and a smile on his face. He was definitely not feeling uncomfortable about having her help him, the way she had been about having him help her.

Feeling as though she was being pulled by a magnet, she stepped towards him. Her eyes were also locked on his, and all of a sudden she found herself standing between his knees. Suddenly, she didn't know where to start, and simply laid her hands lightly on his shoulders while she thought about her plan of action. What felt like a jolt of electricity ran from her hands, through the rest of her body, and her moved her thumbs absently back and forth across his shoulders as she tried to steady herself.

"Okay… I don't want to hurt you…" she told him uncertainly, momentarily unsure of the best way to start. After all, she'd only had to help him put his shirt _on_ , so far, not take it off… _not_ that she wasn't more than willing to help him out in that department, of course…

"This might be the hard part," she told him. She tugged gently at the bottom edge of his shirt, lifting both sides enough that she could see the bandage around his midsection, then focusing solely on his right side, lifting it slowly higher on the side and, with the other hand, reaching around to his back. It was almost as good as giving him a hug, as for a few seconds she almost had her arms around him. "Just tell me if it hurts…" she said doubtfully, moving even more slowly and deliberately than Kurt had been earlier. He smiled up at her, his eyes never leaving her face, and nodded.

He moved his right arm closer and closer to his side, slowly bending his elbow and trying to get it out through the arm hole. Finally, between the two of them, they succeeded in freeing his arm from his shirt with less pain than he'd expected. Really, he would have described it more as strain than actual pain. They both smiled gleefully at their success, as Jane's left hand skimmed along the skin of his upper arm to move his shirt further toward his neck. He was surprised by this gentle touch, but he certainly had no complaints. A few seconds later, he reminded himself to breathe after momentarily forgetting.

After her left hand had pushed his shirt over his shoulder, again without quite realizing what she was doing, Jane flattened her hand on his bare right shoulder, pushing it under the bunch of fabric slightly, moving her hand towards his neck. He was surprised, but in the best way possible. To his amusement, he could see the moment when _she_ also realized that her hand was laying against his skin, and she seemed even more surprised than she was.

She felt herself blushing, because, well... she hadn't even realized that she was touching his shoulder. It was innocent, of course, but it was also very different from holding his hand. He clearly didn't mind, she could tell, because he was still smiling up at her. If anything, she would have ventured to say that his smile was even more intense now than it had been before. Sliding her hand under the now loose fabric on his right shoulder, she moved it slowly to the back of his neck, now very much aware of what she was doing and keeping her eyes glued to his. In return, his eyes seemed to be locked on hers, and for a second they simply stared at each other. When his smile intensified, that just made her smile widen as well.

"I think you're distracting me," she told him softly.

"Sorry," he grinned.

"No, you're not," she chuckled.

"Nope," he agreed, "not at all."

Shaking her head at him, she forced herself to remember the reason she was standing there so close in front of him, lifting the left side of his t-shirt carefully. This side was much easier, since his right side had already been freed from the fabric, so a few seconds later his left arm was also out of the shirt, leaving only his head still inside. Within seconds, his hands sat lightly on her waist, since they no longer had work to do.

Their eyes met again, his smile seeming to ask her, _Is this okay?_

Her smile replied, _Yes, better than okay._

Her fingers skimmed his skin, her hands starting on his shoulders and moving up to his neck again, this time sliding inside the neck hole of his t-shirt, her fingers gently pulling the soft fabric a little wider so that the shirt wouldn't have to pull too hard going over his head. Keeping the fabric stretched as much as she could, she brought it slowly over his head until it was clear, letting it fall beside him on the bed. Now without a task to complete, her arms came to rest on his shoulders, her hands clasping loosely as they dangled in the air behind his head

"That was a lot of work for a t-shirt," he observed.

"It was," she agreed, never really having thought that it couldbe _so_ tricky to get a shirt off.

"Maybe I should just skip putting another one on, and save us a step in the morning…?" His tone was somewhere between an observation and a question, a helpful suggestion with a rise in the intonation at the end that made it clear that he wasn't implying that it had been decided. There was a hint of playfulness in his tone, but at the same time, she knew that he wouldn't have been upset if she'd said no, because… well, because Kurt was nothing if not respectful of how she felt. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her uncomfortable, and she knew it. "Unless you'd rather…"

"Makes sense to me," she told him with a smile. She stood there for a few seconds, just looking down at him, once again overcome with the fact that he was _there_ , and with how lucky she was that things had gone the way they had, especially in the last twenty-four hours.

 _It could have easily been so different…_ she thought suddenly, feeling the familiar panic return out of nowhere.

"Hey," he said, watching her expression change and sensing that her thoughts were going somewhere less desirable, "go get ready for bed. Then come back here. Okay?" In his head he had added _Come back here_ _ **to me**_ _,_ but he didn't want to come on too strong.

Focusing on him again, she smiled, leaning down to rest her forehead against his for a second, feeling her heart skip a beat with relief that he was there in front of her as she did, and flinching slightly.

When she didn't move, he stood up slowly, pulling his arms around her a little more tightly as they moved higher up to encircle her around the middle of her back, the highest he could reach his arms up just then. After a few seconds of holding onto each other, which had been exactly what she hadn't realized that she'd needed, she felt his arms fall slowly back to his sides, and she reluctantly let hers do the same.

"Hurry up," he told her, walking slowly around to the other side of the bed and moving the covers back so that he could climb under them. She picked up the two bags from the bed and sat them out of the way on the floor, then took her toiletries bag and left the room to make her way to the bathroom.

It felt strange to be here again, crashing at his apartment. So much had happened since the last time, and yet it was still less than a week ago. It _felt_ like weeks, at least, if not months ago. She felt the slightest flutter of anxiety when she said the words in her head – _Staying over at Kurt's place_ – but looked up in the mirror and reminded herself that the _reality_ of where she was and what was happening didn't bother her, only the words… and the words weren't what was important. What was important was that she felt safe with him, wherever they were. While she didn't sleep completely without nightmares quite yet, she slept infinitely _better_ with him by her side… and when she _did_ have a nightmare, he was right there. At least, when she didn't go out wandering in the snow, of course.

Reminding herself that she had only to finish getting ready before she could go back and see him again, she finished up in the bathroom quickly, leaving her toiletries bag there. It felt strange, but in a good way – once again, the words _staying over at Kurt's place_ flashed through her head, and she imagined the knowing looks from the rest of the team.

 _Except that they_ _ **know**_ _you're staying over here, remember?_ the voice in her head reminded her. _That was as much a part of their plan as the one you and Kurt made. They knew that you would refuse to be talked out of staying by his side, so they didn't even suggest otherwise. Not even in the hospital._ She walked back to the bedroom with an unconscious smile, one that only grew when she reached the doorway and paused when she saw him look up at her.

"What took you so long?" he asked. When she looked at him in confusion, he added, "I know, I'm impatient. Come here." He patted the spot on the bed beside him, the side of the bed closest to the door. It was such a simple gesture, but something about it made her so very happy. After turning off the light with the switch on the wall beside where she stood, which left the room lit only by the faint glow of the TV that Kurt had turned on, she walked forward with a smile. That night almost a week ago, she'd sat down nervously on the bed to watch TV and keep him company while he packed. This time, she slid the covers back slowly – not quite nervously, more very aware of what she was doing – and slid deliberately under the blankets.

This bed was, of course, much bigger than the one in Clearfield, being a queen size compared to a twin, and she found that even after scooting herself towards him, there was still what felt like a lot of space between them. He was sitting back against the headboard, propped up with two pillows behind his back for support, as he had been in the hospital.

"I got so used to small beds, between Clearfield and the hospital, I forgot to move over towards the middle," he chuckled, noticing the distance just as she had. "And now I'm kind of stuck where I am. I can't really turn sideways for a while, sadly," he lamented, wishing he could turn more than just his shoulders partially towards her.

"No problem," she said, moving closer to him until, as she lay on her left side, she could lean her head against his right shoulder.

"Much better," he said approvingly, turning his head toward her and leaning down until his face rested against the top of her head once again. "You ready to go to sleep?" he asked her, fairly sure he knew the answer.

"There's a good chance that the answer is yes," she mumbled into his shoulder tiredly. She may not have been the one who needed sleep because she'd been injured, as he had, but she'd barely slept at all the night before, and her complete and utter exhaustion was now catching up with her.

He chuckled, pressing _Off_ on the TV remote, which he'd turned on while he'd waited for her, setting it on the bedside table and then slowly and carefully scooting himself down under the covers. When she felt him move, she lifted her head back off of his shoulder, watching and waiting until he was done moving. When he stopped, his back was flat against the mattress, his head now resting on one pillow and the other tossed off to the side.

"It's a little awkward to sleep on my back like this," he observed quietly, in the now darkened room. "It's not as good as being able to turn sideways and snuggle with you."

"Yeah," she said slowly. "But I'll take it." She felt her emotions once again surging dangerously closely beneath the surface, and she told herself that she was not going to cry – _again_ – when everything was absolutely fine. No, better than fine. Kurt was alive and lying next to her, so close that she could touch him. They weren't in his childhood twin bed or a hospital or anywhere else associated with pain or drama or struggle. He was injured, but he would recover, just like she was still doing. Her injuries were different, and most of the ones she _still_ suffered from even now weren't physical, but in some ways it was the same thing. Besides, he had some of those, as well.

When it came down to it, they needed each other in order to heal completely – he was what had been missing for her, though she'd told herself that she had been fine before. Really, she'd known all along that she wasn't fine, but had simply tried to convince herself otherwise because she never thought that the two of them would get another chance. Thankfully, life was full of surprises.

He heard her breath catch on her last few words, and he knew what she was thinking. It was easy to figure out, because he couldn't help but think the same thing. Really, he'd been thinking it every few minutes since they'd gotten back to his place. _I'm so lucky,_ he told himself. _Both because of how things have gone with Jane, and because I'm even_ _ **alive**_ _. That we're both alive, really, after everything we've been through. The fact that we're both here…_

His whole life, Kurt had never considered himself lucky. How could he? His mother hadn't loved him enough to even stay in his life, his best friend had been abducted and he was pretty sure that his father had killed her… All by the age of ten, and things hadn't really gotten better from there. No, to say that he'd never felt lucky was something of an understatement. Now, with everything they'd been learning about his past, it had begun to feel like _cursed_ was a more appropriate adjective for his life than _lucky_. But in that particular moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Bending his right elbow, he brought his arm up between them, clasping her left hand in his. The angle was slightly awkward, but again, neither of them cared about that at all. The important thing was that they were both there. This was so much more comfortable than the hospital, especially for Jane, that it was hard to find anything to complain about. On the contrary, they smiled so hard they both felt slightly ridiculous, both of them now slightly giddy from the combination of exhaustion and elation.

Keeping his fingers interlocked with hers, he tugged their hands toward her cheek, moving his knuckles across her skin without letting go of her hand. He could feel her smile at the gesture, and was rewarded when she turned her head to kiss the back of his hand as he turned their hands and brought them to a stop against her cheek.

Next, she turned her head upwards, so that she was looking up at him beside her, and scooted herself farther up still so that she was at eye level with him, his head already turned toward her. Without missing a beat, he leaned forward and kissed her, slowly at first, but just a little more determinedly as the minutes wore on. Finally, when they needed air, they moved apart slowly, retreating back just far enough for their noses to touch.

Once again, the rush of emotion threatened to overtake her, and it was with great effort that she kept her face from showing it. Or so she thought, until she saw his expression soften as he watched her.

"I know," he whispered simply.

His words had taken her by surprise, and she felt her composure quickly slipping away all of a sudden. Tears pricked her eyes, and her head fell down against him as she felt all the air in her lungs seem to be forced out at once, emptying her completely before she could manage to take another breath. She felt his hand squeeze hers, and she breathed in deeply, trying to steady herself. It took a few more deep breaths, in and out, but she managed to get herself back under control.

She felt him kiss the top of her head, and she smiled despite every other conflicting emotion inside her. She'd always wanted to believe that it was all going to be okay, but it had always been so _hard_ to imagine it. It was easier here, now… with him. Somehow the fact that they had come through the fire and that they now seemed to be on the other side, and stronger than ever, made her think that the _okay_ that he had promised her might be possible after all. No, they could do better than okay. So much better, she wasn't even sure what to call it. Her last thought as she began to drift off to sleep was that she didn't think there was even a word for what she was feeling, not in any of the languages that she knew. Nothing seemed like enough.

He felt her begin to relax against him, and was pleasantly surprised when he felt her right hand move carefully across his chest, coming to rest over his heart… just as it had when they'd been in cramped hospital bed. This time there was no t-shirt fabric between them, though the bottom half of her palm did happen to rest on the bandage that was wrapped around the middle of him. Still, the feeling of her hand flat against his skin was a sensation that he liked even more than he had expected, despite the fact that it simply sat there, not moving. His left hand came up to cover hers, holding it there. Once again, words were unnecessary between them, but the message was clear.

"Good night, Jane," he whispered quietly, his face once again against her hair.

"Mmmhhhmmmm," she mumbled, already too close to sleep to form words.

Kurt wanted to stay awake a little longer, just to enjoy the sensation of lying in his bed with Jane beside him, but his exhaustion and the medication he was taking had other plans for him. To his annoyance, he felt his eyes closing against his will, and it was only another minute or so before he stopped fighting it, knowing that it would do no good, and let his eyes close.

With his last conscious thought for the day, he reminded himself that he didn't need to lament the loss of this chance to enjoy lying there next to her, because – he was fairly sure – there would be another chance to do it again the next day. Beyond the next day, there was yet another weekend that he would spend with her, and if she didn't get pulled back in by work too quickly the following week, even more time beyond that. It occurred to him then that for the first time, he was looking forward to the future, no matter what uncertainty it also held.

Several times throughout the night, Kurt found himself suddenly awake. It had happened in the hospital as well – he had slept fitfully, never for more than a few hours. He assumed that it was because he wasn't used to sleeping on his back, making it was hard for him to get comfortable enough to stay asleep without turning over. This discomfort resulted in him lying and staring up at the ceiling several times that night, awake and yet still groggy, knowing that not only was it _not_ time to get up, but that he needed significantly more sleep or he would be far from at his best the next day.

Each time, he finally managed to get himself back to sleep by looking over at Jane. She seemed to change position frequently, now that she had a bigger bed to sleep in, because every time he turned to look at her, she was lying a different way. Over the course of the night he'd seen her on her left side, her right side, her back and, when he woke up to the faintest hint of sunlight coming through the window and knew that he wasn't going to be getting back to sleep again that night, her stomach.

The clock read 7:14am. On a normal day, neither of them would have slept nearly that long, of course, but it was not a normal day. Not that they really knew anything about "normal" days. But even for them, this was not a normal day.

Kurt breathed in slowly, trying not to do so too deeply. He'd already figured out that that was a _bad_ idea until his ribs healed. He glanced over at Jane, who was flat on her stomach, hugging the pillow with her left arm while simultaneously lying on top of it. Her head was turned towards him, her right arm angled up towards the headboard, at which point her elbow was bent so that her forearm pointed away from him. The right side of her, from her ankle up almost to her shoulder, was pressed gently against the right side of him, and just this fact alone made him smile. If there was one thing he didn't think he'd ever get sick of, it was waking up next to her.

He was at a disadvantage at this angle, of course, since he already knew that lifting his arms up too high was a bad idea. As much as he didn't want to wake her up, at the same time he couldn't help but feel frustrated that he wasn't at an angle where he could reach out to her. Therefore, as slowly and carefully as he could, both for the sake of her sleep and his ribs, he pushed himself gradually back and upwards, rearranging his pillows behind him as he moved, so that when he stopped, he was in a semi-reclined position, as he had been the night before when they'd first climbed into bed.

From there, he could reach out and brush a strand of hair back behind her ear without needing to lift his arm up so far that it would hurt. His hand moved slowly back towards him, but as he watched her sleeping, he felt as though his hand was once again drawn to her by a force he couldn't quite control. He studied the tattoos that he could see protruding from "her" t-shirt and couldn't help but smile. He'd always been rather ambivalent about tattoos before he'd met Jane, but on her… they were beautiful – because _she_ was.

The black square on the side of her shoulder protruded from the arm of his shirt, and he looked at it, remembering both the picture that it contained that was invisible without Patterson's equipment, and the Navy SEAL tattoo that was _under_ it, also invisible to him at that moment. Without realizing it, his fingers began to trace ever so lightly around the edges of it, stopping where the shape disappeared into the arm of the t-shirt and instead following the ink lines of the other tattoos that flowed outwards from it.

Kurt knew that he should stop what he was doing, because if he wasn't careful he was going to wake her up… though upon reflection, that wouldn't exactly be the worst thing in the world, would it? In a way, he was impatient for her to wake up so that he could look into her eyes, and talk to her… He knew that it wasn't nice to wake people up when they wanted to be asleep, and he didn't appreciate when it happened to him… though Jane was the one person who could have woken him up and he wouldn't have minded. On the contrary, he wanted all the waking time with her that he could get, which was exactly why he hadn't wanted to fall asleep the night before.

Jane slowly became conscious, seeing dark behind her eyelids and knowing that that meant it must still be, at the latest, early morning, if not still night. She realized that she hadn't woken up to a single nightmare, and couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder that sleeping beside Kurt could have that effect on her. Around the same time, she also became aware of the feeling of something gliding along her skin on her shoulder, and then her arm. It only took a minute to identify the fact that the shapes it was following were those of her tattoos, and that it was Kurt's finger that was tracing the patterns of ink on her skin.

She tried to stop herself from smiling, not wanting to give away the fact that she was awake, since she was lying with her face toward him, but it was hard not to. After all, she liked it so much… But since she didn't want to take the chance that he would stop once he realized that she was awake, she tried very hard to keep this fact a secret. How long she could do that for, holding in her smile and keeping her eyes closed, however, remained to be seen.

He'd traced all of the patterns of ink on the section of her arm that lay closest to him, and his fingers once again found their way around the black square, stopping when he came to the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. When he paused, telling himself that now he _really_ should stop, but debating with himself in his head because he didn't want to, he watched as her mouth pulled into a pout, and he realized that she was already awake, so he was having the discussion with himself for no reason. Seconds later, her eyes opened, and she smiled broadly at him.

"Why'd you stop?" she whispered, scooting herself closer to him and propping herself up on her elbows.

"I didn't want to wake you up…" he replied quietly, laying his right hand flat against the skin of her arm where he'd been tracing the tattoos. "Clearly I failed there… sorry."

Smiling up at him, she shook her head. "Don't be," she told him. "That may be my favorite way _ever_ to wake up."

"I'll have to remember that," he told her. They each smiled back at the other, and for a few seconds, neither of them could think of anything to say. They had matching dopey grins on their faces.

"It's the second to last day of the year," he said finally. "If there's anything you haven't done yet this year that you want to accomplish, you'd better get to it."

After looking at him thoughtfully for a minute, she said, "I think what I want to do that I haven't done yet this year is already on the agenda for today," she told him, her smile suddenly looking a little shy.

"Oh yeah?" he asked. "And what's that?"

"Spend a day with you that does _not_ include chasing bad guys or saving the world in any way, or visiting with old ghosts," she told him, glancing away and then looking right back into his eyes. When she did, she swore she _saw_ the warmth radiating from them, the smile on his face was so intense.

"Yep, that's _definitely_ on the agenda," he told her. "I can possibly even arrange for that to be the last _two_ days of the year, if you don't get enough of it today."

"I guess we'll just have to see how it goes," she replied with a grin, trying not to laugh. The idea that she could ever, _ever_ get enough of this… it seemed comical to even imagine it. "But I have a feeling I know the answer." She tugged her pillow closer to him, then leaned her chin against it, both her arms now around it and tucked underneath, the side of her right arm leaned against him.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, pretending to be surprised. "Which way is it going to go, do you think?"

Shaking her head and then laying her left cheek against the pillow so that she was looking up at him, she chuckled slightly. "As if I could _ever_ get enough of this," she said softly.

Leaning over towards her, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear once again, and then this time, reached his right hand to the back of her neck where it met her back, and where the oil derrick tattoo reached up above the loose neckline of his "too-big-for-her" t-shirt. Right away, her eyes closed and her smile intensified.

"Mmmmm… Don't mind me," she told him, "you just do exactly that." He smiled at her, unable to help himself. Her reaction was so cute, and he was amazed that it seemed like she liked what he was doing as much as he did.

"Why? Do you like that?" he asked teasingly.

"Not a bit," she said, obviously lying, her eyes still closed and the happy smile on her face.

From somewhere in the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she could take _off_ her (his) shirt and he could probably trace tattoos all day. While it wasn't an unpleasant thought, of course, she felt as though her mind had suddenly jumped about fifty steps ahead, and for a few seconds, it felt like the bottom had fallen out of her stomach.

 _Relax,_ she told herself. _You could do that, and it would be fine. You can also_ _ **not**_ _do that, and that's fine, too. He would tell you exactly that if you said any of this out loud. You_ _ **know**_ _this._

Interestingly enough, as she thought about it, she realized that she _did_ know that the voice in her head was right, and she relaxed again. She wasn't going to be that bold at this moment, but she wouldn't rule it out for the future. For now, this was perfect. She just needed time, and she knew it. Even better than that, she knew that _he_ knew it.

She had seemed completely relaxed to him, which he found so fascinating, and then suddenly her muscles tightened. He didn't think it was because of something he'd done, because up until now, all signs had pointed to her being comfortable with it – very comfortable, even. In that case, chances were that it was something in her head. There were so many things to choose from as far as possible triggers went, but because he didn't see any obvious clues and nothing occurred to him, as attuned to her as he liked to think that he was, it was one of the few times when he had to wait and see if she would push through it herself, or if she would tell him. She was getting better about that, about not trying to hold everything inside.

A minute passed, and he watched her relax again. Whatever it had been, whatever had occurred to her, she seemed to have worked through it on her own. He loved when he got to be privy to her innermost thoughts, but he was also glad to see that whatever it was, it had come and gone without causing any major turmoil. After all, she'd had more than her share of drama, both lately and just in general.

He was still watching her when she opened her eyes lazily and smiled up at him, and at that moment he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen such a blissful smile on her face. Probably not, all things considered. "What do you want to do today?" she asked him.

"What do _you_ want to do today?" he replied.

"Nope," she said with a grin. "I asked your first. Besides, you're the one who's injured. You get to pick."

"And if I say I want to do this all day?" he asked, continuing to trace the ink on the back of her neck.

"Boy, well, I mean… I guess I could deal with that…" she replied playfully. "I mean, only because _you_ would want to, of course…"

"Right," he countered. "Because you don't enjoy that _at all_."

"I don't want to be rude or anything," she said with a smile a mile wide. "But I also happen to know that you'll get hungry, probably sooner than later."

"It's true," he agreed thoughtfully. "And I did take on the responsibility for making sure that _you_ eat… so that you don't end up the one in the hospital." Frowning, he sighed and said, "Well, I guess we can't just stay here like this all day after all."

"I can make you some breakfast," she volunteered, already anticipating his reaction. Turning to look him more fully in the face, she watched as he burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he sputtered. "Jane… I love you, but you might give me food poisoning."

"Hey, that's a little harsh," she said, frowning at him sternly and turning over onto her back to look up at him. "Besides, it's not my fault you never taught me to cook."

"I'm sorry," he said kindly, moving the hand that had been on her back a minute before to her cheek. Then, in a thoughtful voice, he said, "I can't believe you remember that…" He'd offered to teach her to cook not long after they'd first met, during another period of forced recovery – hers, that time – that they'd spent together, but somehow saving the world had always taken priority. As his thumb stroked her cheek, her smile returned – they both knew that her frown hadn't been genuine, anyway. "Maybe we can do something simple, like a mini-lesson…"

"And maybe we won't need to cook at all. Didn't Zapata say something about us not needing to worry about food? I wonder what she meant by that…" Jane mused.

"We won't know until we get up," he said quietly, his hand still on her cheek.

"Do we have to?" Jane asked with a heavy sigh.

"Not necessarily," he assured her. "Though brushing our teeth may be something we want to do sooner than later…"

"Hmmmm… you have a point," she told him, immediately closing her eyes. "But I don't want to get up." He chuckled softly, his hand still on her cheek. Then, after a pause, she heard him sigh beside her.

"You know, you don't really appreciate the ability to bend and twist until you lose it," he said, frustration suddenly audible in his voice, which made her open her eyes in curiosity. "Like everything else, I guess."

She studied his face for a second, wondering what had made him say that. "I mean don't get me wrong, I'm a hell of a lot better off than I would have been if I was dead…" Her eyes widened at his words, and she was now genuinely confused… and a little bit worried. It wasn't like him to talk like that.

"I feel like I'm missing something important," she told him seriously, looking up at him worriedly.

He shook his head, smiling at her again. "Sorry," he told her. "I guess that was a little cryptic. I was just watching you and wanting to get closer to you and I guess… feeling a little frustrated about not being able to really sit in any position except this one without leaning on something I shouldn't. Because really…" he pursed his lips, looking at her as if he couldn't decide whether he was going to say what he wanted to say or not. "This is better than the hospital, but I just still feel like you're too far away…" Watching carefully for her reaction, he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Her smile was sympathetic as she looked back at him. After all, she knew that it must be frustrating for him to have such restricted movement. "Well, I'll definitely agree with you, that this – you being injured…" She looked down at the bandage that was wrapped around him, then back up. "It's…" Suddenly unable to say the words she was thinking, she changed the sentence and continued slowly. "It could have been a lot worse." After hesitating for a few seconds, she continued. "I can understand how it must be frustrating for you," she said. "And it's certainly not ideal that you can really only sit in one position… It's a lot worse for you than it is for me, of course, so I know that I can't _really_ understand. But…"

Now she sat up slowly, his hand slipping from her cheek as he waited to see where she would end up. She turned around so that she was facing him, sitting where she'd been lying a minute before, her right knee against his right leg. Leaning forward, she took his hand in hers. "At that same time, as annoying as it is… I can't help but think of everything else we've been through. Compared to that…" She looked into his eyes for a few seconds, trying not to let her thoughts get away from her, trying not to remember too much. "I know it's frustrating, but it's probably the easiest thing we've faced."

He looked at her, his expression changing to one of awe, and he shook his head. "Well now I just feel stupid," he blurted out, starting to laugh. "Because you're absolutely right."

"It's not stupid," she told him, "it _is_ frustrating. I'm not saying it's not. I'm just saying…" She felt a feeling of déjà vu wash over her, and she stopped in the middle of her sentence.

It seemed that once again, they were perfectly in synch, because Kurt's face filled with surprise at that moment, realizing that he knew what she was going to say. He could have beat her to it, but he decided to let her have the moment. After all, this realization was a big deal for her. As he waited for her to continue, the grin on his face only widened.

"I'm just saying… that… it's going to be okay," she said slowly, realizing exactly how it probably sounded to him to hear _her_ say it now. " _We_ are going to be okay."

He was grinning from ear to ear by now – he couldn't help it. The change he'd seen in Jane already was incredible. She had a long way to go, he knew, and it wouldn't be easy… but that was alright.

"Yes, we are," he agreed, leaning forward as far as he dared, but coming up short of her. "Would you, uh…"

Scooting herself closer to him, she smiled innocently. "Something I can do for you, Agent Weller?" she asked. He rolled his eyes at her, and simply waited.

"I guess I really _should have_ gotten up and brushed my teeth earlier, huh?" she asked, her face still a good six inches away from his.

"I don't care," he growled at her, knowing that she was just teasing him on purpose now. "Come here."

"Why?" she asked, again looking at him innocently and just barely holding in a laugh. She felt him tug on her hand, pulling it closer to him, and she let herself lean closer to him so slowly, she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd growled at her again. He didn't, however. Instead, he simply kept his eyes locked intently on hers, waiting, and smiling at her warmly.

When her face was finally a fraction of an inch from his, she stopped, and she saw an unfamiliar look flit across his face.

"You're impossible," he whispered.

"But you like it," she told him with a grin.

He laughed out loud in surprise, nodding his head. "I do," he replied, then leaned forward just enough to brush his lips against hers, moving back again a second later as he felt a twinge behind his ribs. She leaned forward to compensate for the space between them this time, sitting up on her knees slightly to even out their eye levels. When they finally pulled apart, she leaned her head down against his neck, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder.

"You need some breakfast," she told him quietly.

" _We_ need some breakfast," he corrected her, clasping her hand in his and squeezing it tightly. "And coffee," he added.

"Okay, _now_ you're speaking my language," she said, gently nuzzling her face against his neck and then slowly picking it up again so that she could look at him. A few seconds later, she let go of his hand and climbed towards the far side of the bed to get up.

"Come on," she said, standing by the door. "If you don't get up, I might make you breakfast." Her eyes danced playfully.

"Okay, okay, I'm getting up," he said quickly, but moving just as slowly as usual. She stood by the door and watched as he stood up stiffly, walking towards her.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked her, coming to a stop in front of her, his hands immediately going to her waist.

"You, of course," she replied, as if it was obvious. She rested her arms gently against the bandage that was still wrapped around him, with only her hands actually coming in contact with his skin. Tapping lightly, she said, "You go first in the bathroom this time, and I'll go see what the food situation is. I promise, I'll just look. I won't make anything, except possibly coffee."

"It's a deal," he told her. "And I suppose that's my incentive to be quick? So I can make sure you don't get tempted?" His eyes flashed playfully at her as she pretended to scowl at him.

"Why do I put up with you again?" she asked, as if she was seriously trying to remember.

"No idea," he shrugged. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that question…"

Taking a step back, she shook her head at him and laughed. "Go on," she told him, "or I really will start cooking… which has to be the weirdest threat ever."

"But it works," he told her, letting his hands fall from her waist as she stepped back again. "So I'd better not push my luck… you could be more serious about it than I think…" She made a face at him and watched him walk past her out of the bedroom.

Following after him slowly to make her way to the kitchen, she looked around her. Today was Friday. A week ago, she'd woken up dreading the day, and the party at the end of it even more than that. Her feelings now couldn't be more opposite from that day… On the contrary, she could not remember ever looking forward to the immediate future so much – or at all, really. She did so cautiously, of course, but less and less so as she allowed herself to believe for the first time – in herself, in him, in _them_ , in the idea that just maybe… this could work.

Yes, in the space of a week, her entire world had turned upside down.

And she quite liked it that way.


	44. I Could Get Used To This

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: I haven't said it lately, so I'll say it here: Thank you so much for the kind reviews you all leave for me. They're so very much appreciated. Also, I just wanted to reiterate again that I know nothing about broken ribs and could find very little specific information on the recovery process, so I'm making my best guesses. It's almost the end of December (for Jane and Kurt – and somehow already spring for the rest of us) so this story is winding down… though despite their length, these chapters all seem to cover such short increments of time, this is definitely not the last one. I'm not really sure how many more there will be. I'm not the one in charge – Jane and Kurt are. I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

Jane walked out of the bedroom toward the kitchen slowly, still not quite awake. It felt surreal, standing in Kurt's kitchen a minute later, knowing that he was in the bathroom nearby. Sure, she'd been here more than once before. But it had been a long time ago, and it was all understandably very different now, especially since she was standing there wearing _his_ clothes… She smiled to herself, gravitating slowly towards the counter where the coffee machine sat. Looking at it, she tried to guess where he would have kept the necessary supplies, opening the cupboard above where the machine sat on the counter and peering inside.

Yet again, she was hit with the strangeness of the situation, and how she still really couldn't believe that she was making coffee at Kurt's place. He'd made coffee at _her_ place more than once, of course, but that had been a long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that now it almost felt as if she had imagined it.

 _It isn't the fact that you're making coffee here that's making you feel that way, and you know it,_ the voice in her head pointed out. She knew that it was the truth, but the thought still made her blush, even standing there alone. After all, she knew what it _was_ that made her feel a little extra self-conscious, a little… _off_ , but not in a bad way. She'd been able to deny her feelings for him for a very long time, somehow, but not anymore. What's more, she no longer _wanted_ to deny them.

As if it was perfectly normal and she did it all the time at his place, she reached into the cupboard to take out the coffee, a filter and a scoop. Almost before she had opened the bag, the aroma wafted into her nostrils and she began to feel more awake already. She had just finished spooning coffee into the filter when she heard the bathroom door open. Her head had turned at the noise, and she stood and watched expectantly until Kurt appeared a few seconds later.

It was hard to say who smiled at who first, or it may have happened at precisely the same second. Either way, with her smile firmly in place, she turned back to what she was doing, pretending to ignore him. She set down the spoon, folded the bag of coffee closed again, and then slowly and deliberately placed it back in the cupboard, closing the door.

By the time she'd done that, also seeming as if he was trying to be nonchalant but more likely not seeming to be in a hurry because his injuries _required_ him to move slowly, Kurt had walked up behind her, stopping only when he was standing with his chest against her back. His hands once again came to rest lightly on her waist before they slid slowly around in front of her, clasping and then coming to a stop on the counter in front of her. "How's it going in here?" he asked casually, as if they stood this way all the time.

"Pretty good," she replied, also acting as if they were talking from a more usual distance, and as if he wasn't standing with his arms around her. Turning to smile at him over her shoulder, she felt herself blushing all over again, wondering if she looked as ridiculously giddy as she felt. Fighting to retain normalcy in the conversation, she added, "Now we just need water, and we'll have coffee."

"There's a pitcher in the bottom cupboard, by your feet," he told her. "I usually get the water in that and pour it into the machine."

"Thanks for the tip," she said, unable to keep from glancing back over her shoulder at him again and grinning, willing herself not to let her face be pulled toward him, the way it wanted to be. She shifted slightly so that she wasn't standing in front of the cupboard door that she needed to open, and felt him move along with her. When she leaned down to get the pitcher out of the lower cupboard, he took a step back to give her space to move, so that he was forced to let his hands fall from her waist. Even so, she could still feel him watching her. Even after less than a minute, she already felt that he was much too far away.

She stood back up and walked to the sink, filling the pitcher halfway with water and then moving back to coffee machine to fill it up to the line. It wasn't a particularly interesting task, simply an important part of the process of making coffee, but when she pressed the _On_ button and turned around to look at him, she saw that he was watching her intently.

"What?" she asked with a smile. Of course, she knew exactly why he was smiling at her the way he was. It was, after all, pretty much the same reason she was smiling at him – mainly, because he was there in front of her. Another reason wasn't even necessary. Continuing to smile at him, she rested her elbows against the counter that was now behind her, leaning back against it casually, as if she really didn't know why he was watching her, the look in her eyes saying exactly the opposite. He walked forward until he was only inches away from her, still just smiling at her. To her disappointment, he stopped before she expected him to, still inches away, which made her immediately want to lean forward again, toward him.

"Your turn in the bathroom," he told her off-handedly – again, as if this was a perfectly normal situation and they always talked to each other from this close proximity, and about whose turn it was to use a shared birthday. Of course, he could have told her that from across the room… but what would have been the fun in that? He enjoyed watching her reaction to him. When it came down to it, he just enjoyed watching her, period.

She simply shook her head and rolled her eyes at him, smiling all the while. "I guess it is," she replied, staring into his eyes for a few more seconds before she started moving, sliding to the side to go around him in the direction of the bathroom.

As she did, he had the urge to stop her, for no other reason than he didn't want her to walk away. On the contrary, he wanted her closer to him. But he resisted the urge in the end, knowing that she would be right back there again in only a few minutes. It would only _feel_ like an agonizingly long time.

 _What's happening here?_ he wondered, realizing just how little control he had of his emotions when it came to Jane. He'd always known that she was his weakness, even before he'd known it consciously, but he swore that he had less and less control the more time he spent with her.

 _That's probably because that's exactly what's happening_ , the voice in his head told him helpfully.

After she'd disappeared into the bathroom, Kurt looked around the kitchen that was so familiar to him. He'd lived in that apartment for years, and yet, somehow today it looked different – and not just because there was evidence of Patterson and Zapata's great grocery shopping odyssey yesterday in the form of various foods sitting on the counters that wouldn't normally have been there.

No, he realized as he looked around the apartment past the open kitchen, it wasn't just the kitchen that looked different. The rest of the apartment looked different too. Except that… it didn't. Not really. Everything was the way he'd left it.

That was when he understood that what was different was _him_. He felt different, and somehow that made everything around him look different. Of course, different could mean better or worse, but in this case, there was no question about the fact that it meant better. No, better simply wasn't a strong enough word for the kind of different he felt because of Jane. It was as though he'd been walking around in a fog for literally as long as he could remember, going through the motions, and suddenly that fog was gone.

The coffee machine finished brewing on the counter beside him, and he turned as the sputtering sound brought him back to the present. Already, after only a week, the smell of coffee reminded him of Jane. Really, if he was being honest with himself, _lots_ of everyday things now reminded him of Jane. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was thinking about her most of the time, which made it seem like more and more things were reminding him of her. It was hard to know for sure.

Jane walked back from the bathroom slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. She wanted to see what Kurt was doing without him noticing her, if that was possible. It wasn't that she didn't like him watching her, of course, because she could admit that she did. No, it was more that it was fun to watch him when he didn't _know_ that she was watching, and she didn't get too many chances to do that. The combination of his FBI training and his instincts made him very hard to sneak up on.

He was pouring coffee into two mugs when she rounded the counter quietly, without him having any idea that she was there. He only noticed her when she was almost beside him.

"You're like a ninja," he said, looking up at her with a smile as she seemed to appear out of nowhere. "I didn't even hear you until you were right there."

"Maybe I had ninja training," she mused, looking thoughtful. It was only partially a joke, of course, since they would probably never be able to know for sure how many different kinds of training she'd had when she'd been Remi.

Kurt chuckled, shaking his head and moving slowly to take out a spoon, creamer and sugar for the coffee. "Maybe you did," he said, as if he was seriously considered it. "At this point, it really wouldn't surprise me."

"Are you saying that I can't surprise you anymore?" she asked as he handed her a mug of coffee, made exactly the way she would have done it herself, right down to the exact additions of cream and sugar. She couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, and at the fact that he still remembered what she liked in her coffee.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked, grinning at her. "I'd say the past week has been somewhat surprising."

"Okay, fair enough," she agreed, peering into her coffee thoughtfully, "Surprising may even be an understatement."

He chuckled softly, putting his right arm around her as they stood at the counter, then leaned over to kiss her temple. As he turned to rest the scruff of his face against the smooth skin at the edge of her forehead, her left arm instinctively wound around his lower back. This time it did so more carefully than usual, her hand settling below the bottom edge of the bandage.

"Let's see what food there may or may not be around here," he said, barely moving his face away from her and consequently speaking almost against her skin. Of course, she had absolutely no complaints about that. She held her coffee cup in her right hand, sipping from it slowly, and he held his cup in his left, with their other hands looped around each other. She couldn't help but smile at the way he was suggesting movement on their part, while barely moving at all, just holding her close. Something about that moment struck her as perfect. No, that was wrong. _Everything_ about that moment struck her as perfect.

She leaned her head gently against his cheek, sighing happily. This just made him chuckle, turning slightly to kiss her again, this time on her forehead, which only made her want to think about food even less than she already did.

"This is perfect," she said quietly. "We don't really need food, do we? I mean, I'm not even hungry…" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could reel them all back in – but alas, it didn't work that way, of course. They both stiffened immediately in surprise, though for slightly different reasons.

Interestingly enough, they pulled each other tighter when their muscles contracted, so that instead of her words making them pull into themselves, away from each other, they were now closer together. Kurt set his coffee down on the counter, turning slowly towards her and pulling both of his arms around her insistently. He didn't expect her to resist, but he was prepared in case she did. After all, he knew that she was still beating herself up on this topic, and he had no intention of allowing her to continue, if he could possibly help it. The trick was how to make her stop. All he could come up with was to provide a constant stream of support, which he wanted to do for her anyway.

Jane also set her mug down on the counter, more slowly than Kurt did, and only after he already had both arms around her. She knew that trying to fight what he was trying to do was futile – and really, who was she kidding? She didn't want to fight it. On the contrary, she could now at least admit to herself that she liked how stubborn he was about her well-being. That was the first step, wasn't it? Being willing to accept, in this case, that someone cared? No, she would be lying to herself if she said that she didn't want Kurt to act exactly the way he was acting. Because of that, she simply relaxed against him and tried to breathe.

 _I should apologize,_ she thought.

 _For what?_ the voice in her head asked.

 _I shouldn't say things like that,_ she reasoned. _I need to get it all out of my head. I just wish I knew how._

 _Being hungry isn't a choice_ , she reminded herself. _You are or you're not. You just replied without thinking. It's nothing to apologize for._ Then, more emphatically, the voice insisted, _ **He doesn't want you to be sorry, he just wants you to be okay.**_

 _Yeah,_ she thought, trying to keep the sigh she felt from escaping her, _I know._

 _I wish I knew the right thing to say…_ he thought at the same time that her thoughts were racing. _I wish I knew how to help her._

 _Do what you're doing,_ he told himself. _You said it yourself earlier… She's already different. Think where the two of you were a week ago… She has actually come a long way in that time. It just takes_ _ **time**_ _, but she'll get there. There's no one else who's better at getting through to her than you, and you know it. There never was, in as long as she can remember, and as long as you've known her._ He couldn't help but smile just a little bit to himself, knowing that it was the truth. _You're doing it right. Just keep doing it._

They were clinging to each other as if they thought that the other was going to try to get away, both just hearing the sound of two people's breathing and little else. This was tricky for Jane, who was trying to find the balance between holding on firmly and not hurting Kurt's ribs, but he hadn't flinched at all, so she could only assume that she hadn't hurt him. Both of them had words poised on the tips of their tongues, and yet, neither of them uttered a single one of them.

Not surprisingly, they were both fairly sure that they knew what the other wanted to say. Kurt could tell that Jane hadn't meant to say what she had said, and that she probably wanted to apologize, even though it wasn't anything she _should_ apologize for. He _knew_ that she was doing her best, he just wished he could get her to relax, and to understand that her best was good enough. She'd always put so much pressure on herself.

By the same token, Jane knew that Kurt wanted her to stop putting herself down, to stop being so hard on herself. That time she hadn't done it on purpose, but she knew that there had been plenty of other times when she'd said self-denigrating things that she shouldn't have. She breathed slowly, in and out, just focusing on that for a minute.

He loosened his grip on her and leaned back, looking in her eyes. Neither of them had said anything for several minutes, since her words had come out so unexpectedly, and yet it felt as though they'd had a whole long conversation about it. Looking at her now, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead again, feeling like he'd said what he'd needed to say even though he hadn't actually said anything.

Looking into his eyes, it was the strangest thing… It was like they'd had a serious talk that had actually never happened. The two of them had always had a strong connection, but this was just… it was beyond impossible. _And yet, it's reality_ , she told herself, unable to help herself from smiling.

"All I meant was, I would happily stand here like this, because it feels so perfect," she said softly, having recovered the ability to breath normally again over the past few minutes.

"I know," he said simply. "And neither of us is going anywhere. So I think we can afford to walk a few feet and shift a little bit of our attention to food, and it will still feel perfect. And even if you don't feel hungry, I want you to try and eat. Because it's my job to make sure that you're okay. Okay?" he asked her seriously.

"Okay," she whispered, smiling at both his sincerity and the cluster of the word 'okay' that they'd just said three times in a row between the two of them. Then, out of uncontrollable curiosity, she asked, "How did that become your job, anyway?"

"I made it my job. Because there is _nothing_ I want more than to know that you are okay. And to help make sure that happens. I guess it's less of a job than just… something I want to do." After a short pause he added quietly, "More than anything." After all, those words already had significance to them. He stopped and looked at her, awaiting her reaction.

As she'd been doing most of the morning so far, she smiled at him warmly. "I think I can live with that," she told him. "Especially if it means I end up here, with you."

"Looks to me like you do," he said, looking around and then grinning back at her.

"Good," she replied. "I was hoping you'd say that. And now," she added, "let's think about food." He just smiled right along with her, turning as she shifted, they moved together slowly toward the opposite end of the counter, near the refrigerator.

One of the first things they noticed was that there at the end of the counter was a bag of croissants and a bunch of bananas. "Alright," Kurt announced, inspiration for a simple but interesting breakfast striking him. "This is two-thirds of what I need, and the other third is right up here," he said. Turning slightly toward the upper cabinet in front of them, he started to reach up before remembering that that might not be a good idea. He stopped abruptly when he felt a twinge in his rib cage, lowering his arm sheepishly and feeling Jane's eyes on him. "Ooops… forgot about that for a second," he mumbled. "Just habit…"

Jane smiled at him and nodded. "So, this cabinet?" she asked, reaching up to open it and then turning to look at him over her shoulder, grinning sweetly and leaning toward him slightly. "What do we need in here?" There was no teasing in her eyes – she understood instinctively that this wasn't the time.

For a second he didn't answer, but instead simply stared into her eyes. He could see that she was trying to distract him from potential frustration at not being able to do things the way he normally did, and he could admit that it was working. She was, after all, the perfect distraction for him. Or, more accurately, they were the perfect distractions for each other.

"Peanut butter," he told her, glancing up at it in the cabinet just above eye level. So close, and yet so far away.

Her face twisted slightly in surprise. She couldn't imagine how that would go with the other things on the counter, but she reached up and took it down anyway, setting it on the counter hesitantly. Sensing her reluctance, he chuckled slightly. "Trust me," he said, "I've tested this on Sawyer extensively."

Chuckling at the idea of his nephew as a test subject, she moved slightly to the right, to the next cabinet over, and reached up for two plates. "Anything else?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he said, glancing at what he had in front of him. Though she had to force herself, she took a step to one side to give him space to do whatever he was going to do, watching him with interest. With the materials that he needed now in reach, he worked for a few minutes and prepared what looked to Jane like a very… _unexpected_ combination. Each plate held a croissant, along with numerous round slices of banana, each of them with a dollop of peanut butter on top. Jane looked at them as if they were some sort of alien creation.

"I though you trusted me," he teased her, seeing her continued skepticism. "What? You trust me with your life, but not your stomach?"

"Very funny," she replied, chuckling quietly but still looking unsure.

He picked up the plates, so she walked to the other end of the counter where they'd left their coffees, picking up both of them and joining him at the dining room table on the other side of the counter. Kurt sat down slowly and carefully, appearing to wince a little bit as he did. Though he tried to hide it, the look of pain did not escape Jane's attention and she couldn't help but be concerned.

"Are you okay?" she asked, watching him carefully.

"Yeah," he replied after a few seconds, once he was sure that he _was_ okay. "It just… hurt for a second."

"You've probably been on your feet for too long already," she told him disapprovingly.

"Well, I'm not on my feet right now," he reasoned.

"No, that's good," she replied, her smile slowly returning. "Now tell me about these things? What in the world…?"

"I take it you haven't tried peanut butter and banana together," he said with a grin. The skeptical look on her face was answer enough. "There was a time when Sawyer refused to eat banana _without_ peanut butter, not long after he tried the combination. I thought you might like to try something new. Just… _try one_ ," he urged her, watching her expectantly.

Jane really wasn't sure what to expect, her only thought being that, having tried both separately, she already knew that those two flavors did not go together. Still, she obediently picked one up and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly and then looking at him in surprise. She began nodding as she chewed, and once she finished, she said quickly, "Wow, it's… good!"

"You look surprised," he observed in amusement. "You mean you doubted me?"

Her expression changed slightly, realizing just how surprised she must have looked. "You? Not at all," she replied with a grin. "Those bananas… well, yes. A little. Okay, maybe more than a little." He chuckled at her reaction. She'd been more willing to try them than Sawyer had for the first time, that was for sure. "But I like them, surprisingly enough." Next she broke off a piece of the croissant, eating that as well. "And this, I knew I liked," she added.

Kurt shook his head and smiled. His first attempt at keeping the balance between taking care of Jane and letting her take care of him had been a success. He took a sip of his coffee, feeling very satisfied with their efforts.

"This is good, thank you," she said between bites. She was eating slowly, he noted, but she was eating.

"We make a good team," he replied, adding, "But then again, we've known that for a long time."

"Well I'm not sure this was much of a team effort… you did everything!" she insisted.

Of course, he shook his head. "No way," he told her. "Considering how high I can reach at the moment? Without your help, there would have been no coffee and no peanut butter. Just croissants and bananas. This meal would definitely lose something without the other two," he insisted.

"So my usefulness is reaching things up high?" she asked him with a grin.

"Baby steps," he told her. "You'll be cooking in no time."

Jane's eyes widened at his words. "Cooking, huh? You sure you're brave enough to authorize that?"

"I didn't say _today_ ," he assured her. "Just… eventually…"

"So, that means lots of lessons, then?" she asked with a knowing smile. She couldn't help it, it was just so much fun to give him a hard time about things. Besides, lots of lessons meant… lots of time together. And that was certainly a welcome thought.

"It might have to," he replied with a sigh, pretending to be remorseful.

"Such a shame," Jane said, shaking her head with what might have passed for sadness, had the grin on her face not been a mile wide.

Unable to help himself any longer, he chuckled to himself at the two of them. As much as he loved his job, it would be hard to go back after what had become an extended sort of vacation with Jane… when he was eventually medically cleared and it was time to go back to work, of course. From the way he felt just then, however, he knew that it would be more than a few days. The doctor had said a week, after all. He just hoped that Sandstorm's Phase Two didn't start in that time…

The thought was sobering, and he wondered suddenly where he'd left his phone. The look didn't escape Jane, of course, and she moved her left hand on rest on his right, sitting on the table, without even thinking. "What's wrong?" she asked, not having seen worry on his face for quite a while, and wondering where it had suddenly come from.

"What? Oh, I was just thinking…" he said, still trying to remember where he'd left his phone. "Even though I'm technically not working, I still need to stay accessible, so I was just trying to remember where I left my phone…" He had a few guesses, but he'd hesitated to make the effort to stand up again until he'd thought about where he'd last seen it a little more.

With a smile, Jane replied simply, "Oh, okay. Well you're in luck because I know where it is." Then just like that, she got up from the table and walked into his bedroom, returning a minute later with both of their phones. She set hers on the counter without glancing at the screen, then walked back to the table and handed him his.

"Thanks," he replied. "You didn't have to do that."

"And you didn't have to make me breakfast," she replied quickly. "Though… probably better that you did it than me, at this point." That last part earned her a chuckle from him as she sat back down again, scooting her chair closer to his.

The fact that she'd remembered where she'd last seen his phone made her feel strangely happy, more than she felt like it should have. After all, it was just his phone… But of course, it wasn't the fact that he was obviously grateful that she'd brought him his phone that made her feel good. It was hard to explain _why_ exactly she felt so good at that moment. It was more something about what this knowledge of his phone's location represented. It was more the fact that she was staying there with him and spending so much time with him. No, knowing where his phone was had just been a happy side effect of the fact that she was there. And being there with him was what was making her happy.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked her, and she realized that her mind had wandered.

Looking up at him and feeling self-conscious, she shrugged, smiling even a little harder, and looked back down. Where exactly did she begin to try to explain that? When she thought about it, however, the answer was pretty obvious. "You," she replied, only looking back at him slowly. When she did, she was greeted by the smile that she loved so much, the one that she had only ever seen him smile at her.

He was speechless then, and all he could do was look at her with what felt like the same goofy smile that took over his face so often when he was around her. "Well," he said slowly, "I'm glad I'm doing something right."

"More than _something_ ," she replied quietly, turning serious for a minute. "A _lot_ of things. I hope you already knew that." He grinned and looked down at his food, momentarily surprised by such a direct compliment. His eyes then jumped to her food, but did not yet look back up at her.

Now it was her turn to watch _him_ in amusement, and she saw him eyeing her plate. Though she suspected that it was because he was avoiding looking at _her_ more than anything else, she also knew that he _was_ paying attention to how much she was eating. Knowing this, she continued taking slow bites of her breakfast, reminding herself that it was important. The only way to re-acclimate herself to regular meals, after all, was to eat – even if it wasn't much. If she didn't want it to always be like this, she had to work to change it.

After focusing on her food for a few minutes, she looked back up to find him looking at her again, and now it was her turn to feel self-conscious. She'd eaten about as much as she could manage, and she looked down at her plate, which still held about half of what she'd started with. Pushing it away slightly, she looked back up at him unsurely. Far from being critical, she found the look on his face to have softened since the last time she'd looked at him.

"Good job," he told her encouragingly.

Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath, suddenly feeling frustrated with herself once again. "Eating as much as a bird shouldn't be worthy of praise," she said, looking away again. Though she hadn't meant to, she was doing it again, and she knew it – letting herself get upset about something that shouldn't matter so much, and beating herself up about it. She also knew that it wasn't the amount that she'd eaten that bothered her, but what it represented… Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and in her head, recited the words that she'd been trying to make into a mantra of sorts.

 _The CIA has no power over me. It's over._

It was a hard thing to convince herself of when she could still see the effects, both physical and mental, of course, but she was working on it. Looking down at her bare arms, she realized that the tattoos hid most of what had once been visible on them. Then again, her back and torso had always been where it was the worst, anyway. For good measure, she said the words to herself again.

 _The CIA has no power over me. It's over._

She opened her eyes again, finding herself once again looking at her plate.

"Jane," Kurt said sternly, and she knew what his expression would be before she even looked back up. Frustration mixed with guilt, because he wanted her to stop beating herself up, and because as long as she did, he would blame himself for what had happened to her. The ironic part was that she felt exactly the same way, because she knew – _knew_ – that according to Kurt, she was supposed to be giving herself a break, and that she was failing. If only it was that easy.

Looking back up at him slowly she sighed, trying to force her mouth into a smile, but it came out looking sad and only lasted a few seconds. She was feeling exhausted with the entire exchange, even though she hadn't said a word, and she had been the one to start it. How quickly the situation had reversed itself.

The look on his face was not, however, the one she'd expected after all. Instead, he was simply looking at her intently, with the tiniest hint of a smile. "Good job," he repeated, looking into her eyes stubbornly, and she once again attempted to smile at him. The results were almost as unsuccessful as the previous time, but she figured that it was better than nothing. At least this time, she managed to maintain eye contact with him.

"Thanks," she replied quietly, willing herself to believe that her efforts had warranted his words.

 _You're getting there,_ she reminded herself. _He can see it, and if you let yourself, you can, too._

His plate was empty, so she stood up and cleared both of them. It seemed preferable to remove the evidence than to have to look at it, after all. Leaving both plates stacked by the sink, she walked back to the table, stopping beside him instead of sitting in her chair.

"Do you want more coffee?" she asked.

"No, thanks," he said, now smiling up at her again, and she immediately felt herself begin to relax. Since his was empty, she took both mugs and rinsed them, leaving them by the sink for the time being as well. When she turned around, he'd pulled himself up from the chair and followed her back to the kitchen.

"I was thinking we could watch a movie," he suggested, stopping to lean against the counter not far from her.

"Sure," she said, turning to face him and stepping closer. "It's been a while." This was, of course, a major understatement. The last time they'd watched a movie together had been… well, it felt like another lifetime. In some ways, she supposed that it was. "Did you have one in mind?"

"Actually, yeah," he said, walking back towards the TV. "Sarah gave me this about six months ago and told me she thought it was something I would like. She had seen it and then actually went out and bought a copy to send to me." He found the DVD he was looking for, and then walked back to where she was standing, coming to a stop close to her. Closer than he would have stood to anyone else.

"Wow." Jane raised her eyebrows, impressed. "That's… she _really_ thinks you'll like it, I guess."

With a shrug, he handed her the box. "I guess," he said as she took it from him, turning it over in her hand.

On the front of the box, there was a picture of a city skyline blurred out in the background, and a man with a briefcase in the foreground, running through the clouds. " _The Secret Life of Walter Middy,_ " she read aloud, scanning the description. "Okay." She didn't really feel one way or another about it. It sounded interesting enough, she supposed, but the list of movies that she had seen was still painfully short, so she didn't have much to compare it to.

After all, when she actually had the time to watch movies, alone in her safe house, she found herself restless if she sat for too long. Movies, or TV in general, hadn't seemed to hold her attention most of the time, so she rarely even made the attempt anymore. Therefore, it was hard to even know what she liked and didn't like.

Then, thinking back to her bag of dirty clothes, she was reminded of a more immediate problem – that she had nothing clean to wear.

"Is there… uh… any way I could start some laundry? I was going to say that I should take a shower, which made me realize that I didn't have anything clean to put on…"

"Of course," he said. "And, uh… you know that I can give you something else to put on until your stuff is clean…" She smiled self-consciously, thinking that that was very much okay with her as she glanced down at the things of his that she was already wearing.

"I should probably take a shower, too," he said, thinking out loud. "We can save the movie for when we're clean. But, laundry first, because that will take longer."

To her surprise, he walked slowly to the hall and opened a small door that she'd thought was a closet, but which was actually hiding a narrow stackable washer and dryer. Following after him and stopping beside him, she shook her head in surprise.

"Wow, that's… possibly the smallest washer and dryer I've ever seen – not that that means anything, of course… since I've barely seen any." She stopped and found herself just smiling, first at the contents of the closet that wasn't a closet, and then a second later, at him. That was when she realized in surprise that she'd laid her hand on his arm without even noticing, and she blushed quickly. However, the smile on his face as he looked back at her was perfectly calm, without a hint of teasing. She felt like she should drop her hand off of his arm, but at the same time, she very much didn't want to.

 _Why should you?_ the voice in her head demanded. _You like it there, and I think it's pretty clear that he does, too._ Still, she felt self-conscious enough that her hand began moving down his arm, despite the fact that she didn't want it to.

He felt her hand begin to slide down his arm to his hand, and when it got there he quickly grabbed it, giving it a squeeze. Turning to face her, he paused for a few seconds, enjoying a slightly surprised look on her face. "Go get your bag," he told her, to which she just nodded, smiling back at him and for that moment, not moving.

Chuckling at her again, Kurt shook his head. "Go get the bag and then you can _come back_ ," he told her. Somehow she convinced herself to step far enough away from him that the gravitational force that seemed to pull her in lessened enough to allow her to walk into the next room. Feeling slightly dazed from the intensity between them, Jane walked back into the bedroom to retrieve her bag of dirty clothes. As she lifted it onto her shoulder, she looked around the room again, slightly in awe.

 _This is Kurt's room,_ she thought. Of course, she already knew this. It shouldn't have been a big deal. After all, not only was she standing in his bedroom, but she'd slept in his childhood room for several days. She'd slept in this one once already, as well… but it suddenly felt different. That other room had belonged to a different Kurt, one from long ago. This room belonged to the Kurt that she knew _now_. Feeling slightly confused by the idea that she knew one Kurt better than the other – even though it was true, in a way – she walked out of the room pressing the flat pendant on her necklace between the fingers of her left hand unconsciously.

He'd been watching the doorway, waiting for her return. When he saw her walking toward him, necklace clasped between her fingers, he couldn't help but smile. He'd seen flashes of the metal here and there since he'd given it to her, but it made him smile to see her holding onto it as though it would help her find some sort of answers. After all, the fact that she was wearing it now, when she'd only recently gotten up, meant that she'd probably slept with it on. That by itself wasn't a big deal, except that it implied that it was important to her. _That_ was what made him smile. When she stopped in front of him, setting down her bag beside her, he couldn't help himself.

"Nice necklace," he commented off-handedly, as if he'd never said it to her before.

"Thanks," she replied, hearing the first time they'd had this same exchange clearly in her head. "Someone special gave it to me." Her words were rewarded with his smile, the Just for Jane one that lit up his face.

Shaking his head and chuckling softly, he turned to the subject of her laundry. "So, go ahead and put in whatever you want to wash," he offered, stepping back to give her more space. As he watched her step forward into the space that he'd created for her, he couldn't help but immediately want to move closer to her again. However, he kept himself still, determined not to crowd her – at least for long enough for her to put her dirty clothes in the wash.

"Anything you want to add in here?" she asked, stepping back a minute later. He was surprised at how much room there was in the washing machine, which was not a good thing. It was a small washer, and the fact that there was still space made how little she had painfully obvious. They needed to get her some more clothes… But first things first.

"I might have a few things. I'll take a look, and then we can get it started," he said, stopping to smile at her for a few seconds before walking back to his bedroom. He was surprised when she followed him, until he saw her set down her empty bag by the wall. Walking to the corner of the room, he peered down into the hamper where he generally remembered to throw his dirty clothes… eight out of ten times, at least. Before he had a chance to even _try_ to reach down for those few things at the bottom of the hamper, Jane was standing beside him.

"Don't even think about it," she mumbled, leaning close to him so that she could reach past him to scoop out the meager contents of the hamper and then standing up again. He looked at her with a sheepish smile as she gave him a stern, reprimanding look. "Guess I'm not the only one who's bad at asking for help," she grumbled, which only made him smile harder at her, unable to think of anything to say. Part of his speechlessness was because it was true, and the other part was because it was Jane who he was looking at.

Chuckling at the fact that she seemed completely unaffected by holding his dirty clothes, he shook his head. "Guilty," he admitted, at which point her face softened slightly. His hand landed on her back and they began walking back toward the main living area of his apartment at the same time, completely in synch. After the rest of the clothes were in the wash and the machine had been started, Jane turned back around to face Kurt.

"You go take a shower first," she said, as if the matter had been decided.

He smirked at her slightly in surprise, then asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she replied, "then you'll be able to relax sooner. You really shouldn't spend too much time on your feet. It's only your first day home. You should be resting." He was still smiling at her concern when she looked down at his bandage thoughtfully. "Do you… need help with this?" she asked, a hint of shyness in her voice. She looked down at the bandage that wound around him, then back up at him. No, he hadn't had a shirt on since the previous evening, but the bandage was almost like a shirt… without it, that would be a lot more skin than she'd seen him show up to that point. _Not_ that that was a problem, of course…

It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with the idea of him shirtless. Not at all. This was Kurt, after all, the person she was _most_ comfortable with of all. No, they didn't have a traditional relationship of any kind, it was just… She simply hadn't seen him without a shirt before. It was just one more thing that hadn't happened yet. However, she had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to say that in another few minutes. In a way, she realized, that would make things the tiniest bit more even – not that it would be anywhere close, but it was a start. After all, how many hours had he spent looking at pictures of her completely naked?

 _It's not the same_ , she reasoned. It wasn't, of course, but as she focused on his eyes, she knew that either way, it wasn't anything to worry about. He certainly didn't seem uncomfortable.

"Well," he began slowly, "I could probably do it, with the help of gravity… Just unhook it and let it unwind itself… but I guess it might be easier to have some help." She watched him in amusement, fairly sure that he was enjoying himself just then. "And since I've been told that I'm not very good at asking for help, I should probably take advantage of your… _generosity_ …"

His smile turned into a grin, one that said, _Your motivations may or may not be purely selfless, and I know it._ She suddenly felt very self-conscious, and she had to wonder if he knew something about her motivations that _she_ hadn't known. He didn't say it, however, stopping short of teasing her, for which she was grateful. How did he manage to have this effect on her, anyway?

"And besides," he added, his smile no longer quite so mischievous, "how can I say no to such a nice offer?" he asked, his eyes dancing as he looked at her.

The corners of her mouth turned up then. She couldn't decide what it was that she was feeling, like she was nervous but at the same time, she was perfectly comfortable. Then, before she could think about it and make the butterflies in her stomach beat any harder than they already were, she looked at him and simply said, "Okay." Then she reached up without another word and unhooked the small piece of metal whose short but sharp teeth had held the end of the bandage in place.

Just as she wondered what to do with the clasp, she looked up to see his already outstretched palm. Smiling because yet again, she swore that he had read her mind, she placed it in his hand for safekeeping while she worked on unwinding the bandage. Slowly and carefully, she rolled it up tightly at the free end at the same time as she slowly unrolled it from around him. This involved reaching all the way around him in order to transfer the growing roll from one hand to the other, which she did not mind at all. In a way, it was like giving him a hug, except that she had to keep moving, which was almost hard to make herself do. He didn't seem to mind what she was doing either, and she swore that he brushed against her at every opportunity he was given.

When she was finished, she took the metal piece back from him and used it to clasp the end of the bandage in place around the roll of bandage she now held, taking a step away from him and setting it temporarily on top of the washing machine, which was the only thing in reach. Stepping back to where she'd stood in front of him, more than a little bit inside his personal space, she couldn't help but notice his injuries from the explosion. There were more than a few large areas of splotchy color scattered seemingly at random, as if an artist had simply splattered the upper half of him with paint.

In reality, of course, the splotches of color were dark bruises that would probably take a long time to heal. She tried not to stare, knowing how much she hated it when strangers stared at her… But of course, it wasn't the same thing. She wasn't a stranger to him, and the sight of his injuries, now laid out there in front of her, made it impossible for her to pull her eyes away. All she could do was try not to look _too_ surprised, but it was difficult for her. After all, those were reminders of just how close a call he'd had.

She felt the emotion building in her again, and her eyes began to feel suspiciously moist as she struggled to breathe normally. "Color definitely looks better on you," he said, breaking through her thoughts. Looking up at him gratefully, she couldn't help but smile, though she felt her face quivering slightly as her composure wavered. Before she could think of anything to say, he'd closed the very small distance between them and wrapped her in a gentle hug. Not tightly, because his injuries didn't allow it, but tightly enough that she could feel just how special she was to him. Her arms went around him as well, but more slowly and certainly more gently than she would have otherwise.

The fact that only one layer of cloth instead of two now separated them felt different to her. Leaning her face down against his bare shoulder, she couldn't help but move the bridge of her nose back and forth lightly against his skin, breathing a little more deeply than usual.

"Are you trying to keep me from going to shower?" he asked, at which time she looked up at him in surprise. She'd honestly forgotten that she'd told him to go take a shower.

"Oh, uh… not on purpose…" she told him. "I just… uh… You're very distracting," she finished, feeling slightly giddy. After all, look where she was. "Besides," she added, "I think you hugged me first."

Chuckling quietly, he pulled her just a little tighter and leaned over to kiss her temple again, before slowly loosening his grip on her. She quickly frowned in protest, which only made him smile harder at her. "Yeah, I guess I did," he admitted quietly. "But I'll be back shortly," he promised, his hands slowly moving down her arms, slowly tugging them back to the front of him as they slid down to her hands, just as hers had done a few minutes before. When his hands finally stopped, he was holding her hands. Smiling at her, he squeezed both her hands and then let go, backing up a few steps before actually turning away from her.

Her frown turned into a smile in a few seconds as she watched him. Yes, she'd rather have him close, but she couldn't begrudge him a few minutes to get clean. They both needed that. "Do you, uh…" she started, immediately feeling self-conscious about what she was trying to ask, no matter how innocently she meant the question. "Do you need help with anything else?"

His smile increased in intensity immediately, but he just shook his head. "I don't _think_ so…" he mused, then added, a mischievous smile creeping across his face, "Why? What are you offering?" He couldn't help the amusement he felt as she blushed a deep red, and then he stepped forward towards her again, erasing all of their "progress" of the past few minutes – at least in terms of him moving in the direction of the shower – and took her hands again.

"Sorry," he told her, trying to hold back his laughter, "I couldn't resist." She just shook her head at him, the blush in her face beginning to subside. "You're so good to me," he said, looking at her warmly, letting go of her left hand so that he could hold his right hand up to her cheek. And then, before she could open her mouth to insist otherwise, he added, "No arguments, either. You _are_ good to me. I only wish you were that good to _yourself._ " When she looked up at him sheepishly, he could see that she'd been about to do exactly that – argue – and he just smiled broadly, obviously pleased with himself.

"I know you, Jane," he told her quietly. Then, going back to her original question, for which he'd given her such a hard time, he said, "As far as whether I need any more help…" She could see that he was being serious this time, thinking it through. "I don't think so, but if I do… I'll let you know. Okay? I promise."

Nodding her head first, she managed to say, "Yeah," quietly as she smiled up at him. He squeezed her right hand with his left again and then, once again, forced himself to let go of her so that he could go and take a shower. The sooner they were both done with that step, the sooner they could get on with their day, after all.

She hated to see him walk away, but then again, maybe she needed a moment to collect herself… because how could anyone be _that_ sweet – as sweet as Kurt actually was – and be real? It seemed impossible. And yet… he was. He wasn't perfect of course, but she loved him for that, too. As he seemed to prove constantly, he was imperfectly perfect for her.

When the bathroom door closed behind him, Jane finally walked to the couch, pulling the throw blanket that sat at the end of it over her as she curled up to wait for her turn to shower. Looking out at the view of the street, she smiled.

 _I could get used to this,_ she thought with a smile. _All of it._


	45. Nowhere Else

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)_** ** _I also do not own The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Well, I own a copy of the DVD, but that's it._**

 _A/N: I apologize for taking a little longer with this chapter. This week was crazy, the chapter wasn't coming to me as easily as most of the others, and I also started writing the last chapter already, because inspiration struck. I don't think it's the next one, but I'm not 100% sure. It's coming soon, that's all I know._

When Jane heard the bathroom door open, she stayed where she was on the couch, trying not to look in his direction. She'd realized after he'd closed the bathroom door that without taking clothes in with him, which she was fairly sure he hadn't, he'd be coming back out of the bathroom in a towel. Again, not that that was a _problem_ …

Her eyes flicked in his direction, and she found that he was standing midway between the bathroom door and the bedroom door, grinning at her. "Comfy?" he asked, standing there wearing, as she'd expected, just a towel, holding onto the edge of it firmly. Her surprise that he'd stopped to casually talk to her must have been evident on her face because he chuckled as she struggled to force herself to reply.

"Yeah," she sputtered, somehow even managing to ask a question of her own, despite how flustered she was. "Uh, good shower?"

"Yeah, it helped," he said with a nod. "Still sore, though, which I suppose is to be expected for quite a while." His hair was wet and adorably messy, she couldn't help but think. Pointing into the bedroom, he said, "I'll just go get dressed now…" She nodded, wondering if her face _looked_ as pink as it felt, and looked back out the window. That may have been the weirdest conversation they'd had in a very, very long time. Again, she thought back to a week ago and shook her head. She would certainly never have believed it if someone had told her a week ago that _that_ would have happened.

Now that he was out of the bathroom, it was her turn to shower – but she was in no hurry to move. After all, unlike him, apparently, she was going to make sure she had some clothes – either hers or his – before she headed into the bathroom. Hers weren't even done in the washer yet, which left his… which were in his room.

 _No hurry,_ she thought. She continued to stare absently out at the street, her thoughts wandering. When Kurt quietly wandered back into the living room a few minutes later, she was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice.

At first he assumed that she was pretending not to hear him, but as he moved across the room slowly towards her, he realized that she really hadn't noticed him. Considering how sharp her instincts usually were, this was very unlike Jane. When he sat down slowly in the middle of the couch, lowering himself almost without flinching, only then did she notice him in front of her and turn to look at him, smiling at him warmly.

He'd managed to put on his sweatpants, she noticed, but he had his t-shirt in his hand and his feet were bare. She was surprised to see a concerned look on his face as he looked at her.

"Everything okay?" he asked her. He leaned his back against the pillows on the back of the couch, just turning his head towards her.

"Yeah," she said distractedly. "I was just thinking…" Her eyes flitted back to the street outside, moving over what was, from what he had seen in a quick glance, the normal view of his street. "I don't know if I'm paranoid now, or what…" she said with a sigh. "Maybe I'm just incapable of relaxing."

"Did you see something? Or was it just a feeling?" he asked her seriously. It wasn't that she hadn't expected him to believe her, but even so, she was surprised that he seemed to be taking her so seriously.

"Just a feeling again," she replied with a sigh.

"Like you had at your place?" he asked, his eyes not leaving her.

"Yeah, I mean… I think so… but I don't know. I don't know if I'm just imagining it or what," she admitted.

"You have every reason to be suspicious. Your instincts are what has kept you alive this long, despite how many times you've been in danger," he told her soothingly. His left hand rested on her feet, which were still curled up beside him, rubbing gently. "With everything that has happened, it doesn't hurt to be extra cautious. As a matter of fact, it's probably the smart thing to do. So we'll keep our eyes open, a little more so than usual. Okay?"

Her eyes finally came to rest back on him now, and she smiled. "Okay," she replied with a smile, feeling reassured, at least for the time being, and trying not to focus too much on what was probably nothing. Instead, she focused on _him_.

"I mean… _if_ we ever leave this apartment," he added with a grin.

"We have to leave _eventually,_ don't we?" she asked, her worried expression having relaxed into a smile.

"I don't know, so far I'm perfectly happy to stay where I am," he told her. "I don't think I've ever been so content to stay home."

"Hmmm," she mused out loud, "I wonder why that is."

"I think I know," he told her, looking her directly in the eyes. "It must be… the chance to catch up on my sleep."

Her smile immediately widened as her eyes narrowed in a playful imitation of frustration. "Sleep, huh?" she asked, trying not to laugh.

"Why, what were you thinking?" he asked innocently.

"Oh, I don't know…" she began, looking up at the ceiling as if she was thinking hard. "I feel like there's something else." Her right hand had made its way up to his shoulders, and her fingers were slowly moving across the skin there, the same way he'd done on her tattoos except without the inked lines to follow.

"Hmm…" he said as he pretended to think hard about it. "I'm sure it'll come to me."

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes at him and decided to change the subject. "So, do you need help with that?" she asked him, looking at the t-shirt that laid in his lap. "Not that I'm complaining…"

"I think I've probably looked better," he said, looking down at himself and his color splotched abdomen. Shifting in his seat, he realized too late that he'd moved too much and too quickly. He winced slightly with the pain that immediately shot through him. Breathing through it, he waited for the feeling to subside before he added, "And besides, it's a little cold for this outfit."

"Well," she began slowly, suddenly serious, "I think I would be the last person to tell you to cover up, considering…" she replied, glancing at her own arms as she trailed off mid-sentence and uncurled her feet from beside her. She sat up and put her feet down on the floor, then moved to sit beside him, so that his right shoulder and right knee touched her left shoulder and left knee. "So wear it or don't, it's up to you," she told him. "Though you're right, it's probably the wrong season for you to be half naked. Too bad for me." She grinned at him mischievously.

Eyeing her as if he was genuinely trying to figure something out, he said, "See, I feel like if I replied to that with something like 'there's no bad season for _you_ to be half naked,' somehow I'd get in trouble…" Smiling broadly, albeit slightly wide-eyed, she tried to decide _how_ she would have reacted to that. She certainly hadn't expected the conversation to take _that_ turn, that was for sure.

Her cheeks may have turned a little pink, but she didn't move away. Looking at the floor for a few seconds, she turned and looked back at him thoughtfully. "Well, I guess it depends," she said, pretending to think seriously about this. "It's not like **_I_** walked out here half dressed…"

"True," he admitted, "though I didn't have much of a choice."

"Also true," she agreed.

"So you're saying that I wouldn't be in trouble if I said that?" he asked. "I just want to clarify." He looked over his shoulder at her with a gleam in his eye, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Shut up," she told him. "No fair taking advantage of the fact that I can't punch you."

Looking back at her innocently, he replied, "I have no idea what you mean."

"Also, I should clarify something, too," she told him. "The only reason I said it was the wrong season for you to be half naked is because I don't want you to be cold."

He grinned at her in amusement. "Thanks for clearing that up," he told her.

Shaking her head at him as she stood up, trying to keep a straight face, she simply said, "Of course you don't." Turning slightly so that she was standing directly in front of him, she took the shirt from his lap and unfolded it. The fabric was grey and soft from what she assumed had been years of wear and washings.

"Ready?" she asked. Then, pausing, she added, "Do you want the bandage back on first?"

"I think I'm okay without it for now," he replied.

"But would you tell me if you weren't?" she asked. "I know _you_ , too, you know."

"Fair enough," he replied with a grin. "But what would I have to gain from saying I didn't need it when I did?"

"Beats me," she told him. "But what do you ever have to gain by insisting on acting like Superman? For example, checking yourself out of the hospital against medical advice when you're still injured and going right back to work?" She wasn't referring to _this_ instance, but they both knew to which instance she _was_ referring.

"Point taken," he said, raising in hands in front of him, conceding defeat. "I promise. If I need it, I'll tell you."

"You'd better," she said with a smile, stretching her fingers through the neck hole of his t-shirt and lifting it over his head. Pulling it down carefully over his hair, which was now only slightly damp, she tugged the shirt down onto his shoulders, and was unable to help but brush her fingers against his skin just a little more than necessary. As she did so, she noticed that the smile on his face seemed to match her one she felt on hers.

As she had before, she focused first on his right side, holding the fabric out as far as she could to make it easy for him to slip his arm though, then doing the same on his left side. The left was slightly harder, since the shirt had less space to move, with half of him already inside, but between the two of them, they made it work. He pulled the bottom of the shirt down the rest of the way and smiled up at her where she stood in front of him.

"Thanks," he said simply. Then, reaching down very slowly, he stretched towards a pair of white socks that were on the floor between his feet, where he seemed to have dropped them.

"You want me to…?" she asked, watching him slowly but surely reach for them.

"Nope, I'm good," he assured her, not taking his eyes off of them. She probably shouldn't have let him, she knew, but this time she let him try. It was slow, but a minute later, he was sitting back up triumphantly, socks in hand.

"And putting them _on_?" she asked. Though she wanted to be supportive, she really wasn't sure whether he could do it or not. If she had to guess, she'd have guessed no.

"We're about to find out," he told her with a grin. He began to shift and she stepped back to give him space, as he moved farther down to the left toward the end of the couch, stretching out his legs so that he could prop his feet up. Once she'd figured out how much room he needed, she sat down just past his feet, watching him carefully as he uncuffed the socks from each other, taking one and opening it then leaning forward, drawing his left foot toward him at the same time. Because he was being careful, it was like watching it all happen in slow motion.

He was about halfway to his goal when he stopped and sighed, looking up at her with an unamused look on his face and said only, "Alright, _fine_ ," as we handed her the socks.

Taking them from him with a sympathetic smile, she scooted herself closer to him as he slowly stretched his leg back out towards her, letting it finally rest gently in her lap. She opened the sock, then threaded it easily over his left foot, pulling it up slowly and then, not quite ready to let go, kneading the bottom of his foot with her thumbs before setting it back down against her leg.

"Oh, hey, don't let me rush you," he told her with a grin. "You're really good at that."

"Thanks," she replied as she picked up the other sock and she turned her attention towards his right foot, kneading the bottom with her thumbs the same way once his sock was on his foot.

"No, thank _you_ ," he said insistently, which made her chuckle. "You know you're not giving me much incentive to get better, right?"

"No?" she asked innocently. "So you're saying I should stop?" In the meantime, she continued rubbing his foot.

"Of course not," he replied. "Besides, I don't need more incentive to get better than I already have – like to be able to sleep on my side, or turn sideways on the couch or put on my own shirt. Although," he said, pausing to grin at her. "Your assistance with that makes the frustration bearable."

She couldn't help but smile, even as she rolled her eyes at him. As good as he'd been at shutting her out over those few long months, he was now equally good at letting her in. She set down his right foot and picked up his left again.

The washing machine had been spinning rhythmically for a while, but the noise now seemed to have stopped, and she wondered if it could be done already. Had enough time elapsed since they'd started it? She couldn't remember. Just when she thought about getting up and go and check, the noise began again. She sighed at what had apparently been a false alarm.

Once again, as if reading her mind, or maybe just happening to bring up the topic at the same time she was thinking about the issue of her clothes, he said, "I think you may need another shopping trip with Patterson and Zapata." He watched in amusement as a look of panic darted across her face, and she stopped rubbing his foot, setting it back in her lap. Shifting slowly to put his feet back on the floor so that he could turn and stand up, he moved back over to sit close beside her, their knees and shoulders touching once again.

"No, I really don't… I mean, it's fine, I can—" she wasn't sure exactly what to say to remove that idea from his head, all she knew was that she felt panic, and couldn't quite refute the idea coherently. At that moment, the idea of another shopping trip with the two women seemed completely overwhelming. They'd taken her out shopping a long time ago, before… well, _before_ – since her life as Jane was divided into _before_ and _after._ Before she'd been arrested, before the CIA, before she'd come back to the FBI, trapped and forced to be there with people who despised her, who she'd betrayed… before they'd gradually began to trust each other again. Before the party. Before… _this_.

They were okay now, the three women on the team. Maybe they were even more than okay, though Jane wasn't quite sure. Just like with Kurt, it would take time, and it might never be the same. Still, the idea of a daylong shopping trip with Patterson and Zapata (because it would inevitably be that long, if it happened) terrified her. Maybe someday, but just… not yet.

"Jane," he interrupted her sternly. "You have enough clothes for a few days, and nothing more. You need more than that, at least the basics. I'd take you myself, except that some bossy wanna be nurse keeps telling me I need to rest." She grinned at that last part in amusement as he continued. "I can understand why you might not be ready to go shopping with those two, or even with me, if that was an option… but you need to get _something._ At the very least, you need to buy some things online. You'll get them almost as fast, mostly likely, and you can get them sent here. And since I'm the one insisting, I'll pay for the stuff. Just—"

"What? No. You don't have to—" she began, but they seemed to be on a roll as far as cutting each other off went just then.

"Of course I don't have to," he told her. "I _want_ to."

She looked back at him in surprise, the words suddenly having dried up in her mouth. Since she'd come back, she'd tried to spend as little money as possible. The little bit of cash that she had, that she'd been living off of for so long she didn't even remember where it had come from, had been enough so far. She'd been so concerned with being tracked by either side that she'd been trying to avoid using cards of any kind.

Besides, she wasn't even sure she was _getting_ a consultant's stipend anymore. Did the FBI pay you if they were _forcing_ you to work for them? Or was her payment supposed to simply be not going to jail? It was only now that she realized that she didn't know. How had she gone this long without knowing? It seemed impossible, and yet… she hadn't really been eating, she didn't want possessions anymore… so she'd barely spent any money at all. She'd been existing, these past months… but barely.

Suddenly, she found herself having to concentrate very hard on breathing evenly. It was a different sensation than she'd felt before when she'd been overcome by emotion, but she suspected that at the root of it, the cause was the same. Once again, it was too much.

"Okay," she managed, but nothing more, not trusting her voice. She felt his left hand settle on her right knee, making circles gently for a minute before it finally came to a stop. Then, his hand lying flat, his fingers curled around the sides of her leg and squeezed.

Once again she looked overwhelmed, and it was heartbreaking. After everything that she'd been through it made sense, and yet… it hit home to him once again just how badly he'd treated her. The team as well, of course, but he knew that _he_ had been the most responsible. He was their leader, and he should have set a better example. What's more, _he'd_ been the one with the connection to her, and _he_ should never have abandoned her the way he did.

 _You're past that now_ , he told himself. _Going back over it won't help. You both promised._

A feeling of calm descended over him, and his thoughts stopped racing. Guilt wouldn't change the person he had been back then – nothing would – not any more than it would change who _she_ had been. They both had reasons to mistrust each other, and yet, here they were… and he had never trusted anymore _more_. But Jane had been betrayed on a grander scale, if that was possible. He couldn't ask himself to travel back in time and fix things, though if he could have, he would've done it. No, he had to fix them in the present, and the only thing he could to do was to be a better person _now_.

The words floated back to him from days ago and he smiled. _Just do better from now on_. That much, he could do. Suddenly, over the past week, being good to her had become easy.

There was a change in him that she couldn't identify, as he sat close beside her and squeezed her knee. Somehow, the feeling of building tension that she'd sensed seemed to suddenly flow out of him, vanishing into thin air. Instead, she felt him relax, leaning closer to her. In response, she felt herself leaning into him, though gently, so she didn't hurt him, turning to press her forehead against his shoulder. She knew that he couldn't really turn to face her completely, and she didn't want to make him stretch too far, but at that second she just needed to lean against him in order to be able to breathe normally.

When she'd tensed up a few minutes before, she'd unconsciously hunched forward until she sat perched on the edge of the couch. Now unsatisfied with the angle at which he was sitting beside her, he tried to identify what he could do, since turning ninety degrees to his left would probably end badly for him. One possibility, he realized as he let his hands fall from her, was to slowly pull his left leg up in front of him, carefully pushing it around the back of her and down on the other side. Without her having to move, Jane was now sitting directly in front of him.

Sitting behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, setting his chin gently on her left shoulder. "I knew there had to be a better angle," he said softly, at which he felt her shift, turning so that her left temple came to rest against the scruff on his chin.

She said nothing, but she knew that he understood her perfectly. The one thing she needed more than anything at that moment, really, was just to feel like she could breathe… like she could sit still, not have to say anything, not have to think, even, and just feel… _this_. She inhaled a slow, shaky breath. In response, his arms tightened around her. Still, in some deep corner of her mind, she could feel resistance to the notion that for the first time, it was okay, and it _would_ _be_ okay. Even as she relaxed against him, she could feel that tiny part of her that refused to stand down.

 _You'll thank me later,_ it whispered.

With a start, she couldn't help but wonder if that was Remi, somehow talking to her from her subconscious. It would be something that Remi would do, except that Remi wouldn't stop there…

 _No,_ she thought, _Remi may not be gone completely, but she isn't in control anymore. What little part of her that might remain – the part that lets me suddenly fight off multiple assailants without knowing how I did it – she doesn't get a say. If anyone is going to help anyone, I'm going to help her. Or… I'm going to try. She has it backwards, after all. Maybe someday_ _ **she'll**_ _understand… and even if she doesn't, I'll keep trying. What happened to her – to me – wasn't her fault. She kept me alive long enough to be here now. I owe it to her to remember that, even though she does scare me sometimes._

Coming back to the present, she realized that she felt calmer now, her breathing even as she leaned her temple against Kurt. Once again, she couldn't help but feel like he'd worked his magic on her. It was eerie, really, how easily he seemed to be able to do that, how easily he could calm her down. Turning her face slowly, just a little, without breaking contact with him, she kissed his cheek and then nuzzled her nose against him. In response, she could feel the muscles in his face contract as he smiled, and his head turned, dragging scruff across her skin so that still, their faces touched, until the tip of his nose pressed against the side of hers.

She thought he was going to say something, but to her surprise, he didn't. She considered saying something herself, as well… except that she realized that she didn't need to. And so they simply sat there on the couch, not moving, not talking, barely thinking, simply breathing.

It wasn't too long before a sharp _buzz_ sounded through the apartment, breaking through the silence and then echoing in their ears for seconds afterwards. Neither of them moved right away, not wanting to acknowledge that the noise meant that at least one of them, probably Jane, would have to – or _should,_ at least – stand up and deal with the laundry. After a few minutes of denial, however, Jane sighed and began to stand up, attempting to separate herself from him.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, almost afraid that breaking the silence would break the spell. "Stay right there." As she pulled herself up slowly, she saw him simply nod. In less than two minutes she had switched their laundry to the dryer and was walking back across the living room towards him. She couldn't help but grin, feeling overwhelmed with a wave of affection for him as she walked closer and closer, then folded herself back into the exact position in which she'd sat before getting up.

"There's something about doing laundry for both of us, here…" she murmured. "I like it."

"I'm going to quote you on that," he promised in a low whisper. "Except I'm going to tell everyone that you said you like doing my laundry." He felt her chuckle against him, shaking her head ever so slightly.

"You're impossible," she told him.

"Well that makes two of us," he replied, pressing his nose into her cheek playfully. "I learned from the best."

They sat quietly after that, content not even to make small talk, as the background noise of the dryer combined with their closeness lulled them into a sleepy state of happiness overload. There was nothing else except the two of them inside their little bubble, and it was absolutely perfect.

When the dryer finally buzzed, signaling that it, too, had finished, Jane sighed. Logically, of course, she knew that getting up and taking a shower was not the end of the world. She wasn't going home, they didn't even have to leave the apartment and they certainly didn't have to go to work – or anywhere else, for the matter. She would go and get clean and then sit right back down with Kurt, and it could all feel just that perfect all over again. The trick, of course, was convincing herself to move in the first place.

"Go on, go take a shower," he whispered into her ear without letting go of her. She chuckled, shifting towards him within his arms, which were wrapped tightly around her.

"Someone seems to be stopping me," she told him in amusement.

"That's terrible," he told her seriously, "You want me to take care of them?"

"That would be very interesting," she told him, trying not to laugh.

"I know, I need to let you go and shower," he told her. "But I have a problem."

"It's not serious, I hope," she replied, pretending to take him seriously, even though she was fairly sure she knew what this "problem" entailed.

"It's just…" he sighed with a grin. "I'm having trouble convincing myself to let go of you."

"Yeah, I noticed that," she said, finally smiling in amusement. "Which is funny because I really didn't want to get up, anyway."

Suddenly, she narrowed her eyes at him and leaned back to look him in the face. The change in her expression was immediate and dramatic, and he couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her head. However, he only had to wait a few seconds to find out. Turning all the way around to face him, she lifted herself off the couch and moved back so that she was sitting in front of him on the coffee table, his hands falling to his sides as she did.

"Have you had your meds since we left the hospital?" she asked, almost accusingly.

It was a change of subject that he certainly hadn't seen coming, that was for sure. A look somewhere between guilt and discomfort moved across his face then, and she knew that the answer was no. "Would you believe that I forgot?" he asked. It was fairly obvious that he hadn't forgotten, though Jane had. Otherwise, she would have insisted that he take them already, with breakfast.

"No," she said, her eyes still narrowed. "Because you didn't." He grimaced then, caught in the act, raising his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I was just trying—"

"To be in pain?" she asked sharply. "Kurt…" Sighing in exasperation, she shook her head.

"I hate taking those things," he sighed, looking down and then back up at her again.

"You're on them for a _reason_ ," she argued. "You were seriously injured… in an _explosion_. You had _surgery_. You can't just stop taking them the next day. Did you forget what a close call it was?" She felt her eyes watering, and for a second she thought she was going to cry again. Something else occurred to her then, however, that distracted her from her thoughts of those horrible hours of worry. Looking at him accusingly again, her eyes widened slightly and she asked, "You're not going to even think about trying to go back to work before the end of next week, right? Because that is _not_ happening…"

"I know, I know…" he said immediately, knowing that he'd pushed her too far.

"Because first of all, you need to follow the doctor's orders," she said firmly, still looking at him as though she expected him to argue. "That was the point of my being here, remember? To make sure you didn't… do what you usually do?"

"Which is what, exactly?" he asked, trying not to be amused at her because he knew that she was upset, but finding her concern completely endearing.

"Go straight back to work when you should be resting," she replied. Because he _had_ done exactly that in the past.

"In my defense, the time that I think you're referring to… I was trying to protect _you_ ," he reminded her. "Cade was shooting at you, if you recall, and then you _disappeared_ … with _Oscar_." For more than a few seconds he felt his chest tighten just from thinking back on that day. The fear had been real… fear that he had lost her. Of course, he'd thought that she was Taylor back then, so he had felt even worse, worried that he'd lost her _again_. Not that losing her once wouldn't have been too much for him by itself…

"You're telling me I _shouldn't_ have broken that particular rule that time?" he asked her, not believing that she really thought that. "Because as hard as it is for me to stand by when something happens to anyone else I care about, if it's you… there's just no way. I won't apologize for doing whatever I have to do when it's you who's in danger."

His expression softened from one of defiance to reflect the fear that he'd felt that day, which came flooding back to him. "I thought I'd… that you were just… _gone._ That something had happened to you. That I'd lost you… _again._ " He almost whispered the last word, and while he wondered whether she'd understand that his last fragmented thought had been referring to Taylor Shaw, he couldn't bring himself to explain it more clearly.

"Kurt," she began slowly. That had been back when he'd thought she was Taylor, she realized, and that had given it an extra sharp bite for him. Not that she was less important to him now that she wasn't Taylor. That much she knew.

She thought back to that day and now felt guilty for giving him such a hard time. It had been painfully recently, after all, that she had just come face to face with a feeling that was _very_ similar to what he'd been feeling that time. "I'm sorry. I'm glad you didn't follow that rule _that_ time… but this time I'm not in danger… I'm right _here_ , and I'm here to try to protect _you_ … from yourself. I just want you to have time to heal." She smiled weakly at him, hoping that she hadn't just made things worse.

He just nodded at her tiredly. "I know," he said. Something occurred to him then. "You said 'first of all' a minute ago," he said, changing the subject. "Is there a 'second of all?'"

A sheepish smile replaced her exasperation, and she suddenly looked a little bit embarrassed. "Yes…" she replied slowly. "Just… I don't want you going back to work early because… I like having you all to myself."

"Now _that_ is a good reason not to go back to work early," he told her teasingly, to which she just grinned. "And I agree. I'm very happy having you here, all to _my_ self, too," he added.

With a smile, she forced herself to stand up off of the coffee table. Without another word, she walked to the kitchen counter where the bottle of his pills sat, not far from where the two of them had stood when they'd made breakfast. She took out a glass and filled it with cool water, then walked back to the couch with both. Setting the water down on the coffee table, she read from the side of the bottle. _Take one tablet every six hours for pain_ , it read. Pressing down, she opened the childproof lid and shook a pill out into her hand, replacing the lid on the bottle. Looking down at him, she saw that he was already holding out his hand to her, and she placed the single pill in the middle of his palm.

"Maybe you don't need it every six hours," she allowed, "but you also don't need to go off of it quite yet, or quite so suddenly." He smiled at her and picked up the glass of water, swallowing the pill and finishing the water in one long gulp.

"Yeah, guess that explains why I feel like I've been run over by a truck, huh?" he asked her hesitantly. "Or, more accurately, knocked on my ass in an explosion." He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he'd been feeling more and more uncomfortable as the morning had gone on, without the benefit of the drugs in his system. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing to go off of them a little more slowly, after all. "But I took it. Do you feel better?" he asked.

All she could do was shake her head at him and his stubbornness. "Yes," she replied in satisfaction. Then, after dropping her hand onto his shoulder and squeezing gently for a few seconds, she managed to tear her eyes from him once again, forcing herself on to her next task. "I'm going to shower now," she told him, walking to the dryer to first retrieve her clothes. She took his and hers, all tumbled together, in a bundle in her arms and headed for the bedroom to put them down on the bed so that she could pull out what she needed.

He watched her walk into his bedroom, thinking about just how normal it felt to have her in his apartment, doing laundry and just hanging out doing nothing. This was strange, of course, because even _he_ never hung around and did nothing here, and it was his own apartment! He was always on his way to work, or just coming home from work. Even though things had only just changed, somehow it felt as though Jane had always been there.

A tiny shadow of foreboding danced in the corner of his mind, as he wondered what it would be like when, after his recovery period ended next week, she went back to _not_ being there all the time. The thought was so unpleasant, he didn't even want to think about it. No, there was another week before that happened, and considering everything that had happened in the _past_ week, there was really no reason to think about that until it then… who knew what would happen between now and then, after all? Better to enjoy where they were now.

While Kurt had been lost in thought, Jane had sifted through the clean laundry and found enough clothes for one outfit, taking them into the bathroom and closing the door behind her. Slowly pulling himself up from the couch, Kurt now walked into the bedroom and began sorting the clean clothes that Jane had dumped on the bed. He folded each piece, laying them in piles according to who they belonged to and what they were. Not only did he not mind finding Jane's few articles of clothing among his own, he found that he _enjoyed_ it. He thought back to what she'd said a few minutes before.

 _"_ _There's something about doing laundry for both of us, here…"_ she had murmured. _"_ _I like it."_

He liked it, too, he admitted to himself. Or rather, more specifically, he liked finding her things mixed with his, because it meant that she was there. He felt as though it should have made him anxious, or overwhelmed, or _something_ … but it didn't. It just made him happy.

When Jane emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, she found Kurt in the bedroom, just folding the last of the clean clothes.

"Hey," she said, standing in the doorway. "I would have done that. You're supposed to be resting."

"But now you don't have to," he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, you were in the shower… so you weren't here to remind me to rest… you know I'm not good at it on my own." He grinned at her playfully, and she just shook her head, rolling her eyes but smiling all the while.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asked.

Not one to let an opportunity slip by, he turned and walked the few steps that separated them, replying, "You're going to kiss me, I hope," then leaning down towards her to do just that. Her smile as their lips met was even bigger than it had been a moment before, if that was possible.

When air became a necessity a few minutes later, she leaned back, looking up at him with affection before leaning her forehead against his chin. "Ready for a movie?" he asked her, kissing her forehead lightly just because it happened to be there, so close to his mouth.

"Yes," she told him.

"Then let's go get it started," he mumbled, turning her around and steering her towards the doorway. The clean laundry could continue to sit there until later.

After passing by the TV to put the DVD in, back at the couch, he told her, "I have an idea to try… for the best way to sit. Since I can't move all that well…"

"Okay," she replied, "just tell me where."

"Alright, so, let's see if this works as well as it did in my head," he said as he sat down near, but not at, the right end of the couch, leaving a space just big enough for her by the arm. "Now, you sit here," he told her, indicating the small spot beside him, "but with your back against the pillow at the end."

A smile spread across her face as she understood what he'd envisioned. "Okay," she agreed, lowering herself into the small spot and turning so that she was perpendicular to him, her legs draped over his. It felt very cozy this way, much more so than sitting next to each other with him not able to turn toward her. Almost immediately, her head fell against his shoulder and his left arm went around her back.

"I think it's a success," he announced, giving her shoulders an extra squeeze.

"Me, too," she purred quietly. "With or without a movie."

"Oh, right, the movie," he said, having forgotten the reason they were sitting there already. He couldn't quite reach the remote, which was closer to her feet. As she watched him stretching for it, she grabbed his hand to stop him, then leaned over just a little farther to pick it up. Sitting back, she handed it to him.

"Thank you," he told her. For some reason, all of a sudden, she felt like he was thanking her for more than just the remote.

"Thank _you_ ," she replied, knowing full well that if he _had_ been thanking her for only the remote, then her response really didn't make sense. That didn't really matter, after all.

Chuckling at her and leaning forward to kiss her cheek, he clicked _play_ on the remote, and the movie started.

From the beginning of the first scene, Jane felt a sense of calm that surprised her. It had to do with her surroundings, yes, because it was hard not to be happy as she snuggled up next to Kurt. But it wasn't just that. The movie wasn't full of action or explosions or chase scenes… and she found that for that, she was grateful. After all, her _life_ was full of those things. No, here was a movie about a regular, average man with a problem and how he went about trying to solve it. Well, more than one problem, really.

When Walter, the main character, said, "I haven't really been anywhere or done anything," Jane found her breath catch in her throat for a second. Of course, she'd been many places and done many things, so it wasn't quite the same… but since she didn't remember any of them, in a way, it _was_ the same. She related to Walter, who seemed so… was _lost_ the right word? Maybe not in the same way that she had felt for so long, how she'd grown accustomed to feeling, but in his own way, yes.

The longer the movie played, the more she felt for this man. If he'd been a person instead of a fictional character, she would've liked to be his friend.

"Can you pause it there?" Jane asked suddenly. The screen was filled with a quote, which was clearly supposed to be significant, and she wanted to be sure she got to read the whole thing carefully. Kurt pressed the button on the remote as Jane sat up straight.

" _To see the world, things dangerous to come to,_

 _To see behind walls, to draw closer,_

 _To find each other and to feel._

 _That is the purpose of life."_

"Wow," Jane said in awe. _To find each other and to feel._ At that moment, her brain buzzed with awareness. Not many collections of words that she'd seen anywhere had struck quite such a chord with her as that one did. _The purpose of life_? Not having a very big collection of memories to draw from, she couldn't really remember ever considering the purpose of life.

 _You've been a little busy,_ she reminded herself.

"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing that she'd seemed to go off into her own little world somewhere.

"Yeah," she replied slowly, "I just… wow…"

Leaning towards her slightly, he tightened his left arm around her, winding his right arm around the front of her to pull her into a hug, holding on for several minutes as Jane continued to stare at the words on the screen.

Inches away from her, his own thoughts weren't all that different from hers. " _To find each other and to feel. That is the purpose of life,"_ he repeated in his head. It felt to him like those words summed up the present moment, this exact one that he was living in, just then. After all, wasn't she the thing that had been missing from his life for as long as he could remember? He'd thought that Taylor was the missing piece, and maybe she had been… but somehow, he saw now that what had been missing had been Jane, even before he knew that she existed.

"Ready to keep going?" he whispered in her ear, and she just nodded. She was eager to see how things turned out for Walter, whom she'd quickly become so invested in.

Over the next hour and change, the movie took them from New York to Greenland to Iceland. By that point, Walter had so few possessions with him, that even the thin cloth bag that he had strapped across his chest looked almost empty. Once again, Jane felt a kinship with him. He may have simply left his possessions at home when he'd begun his odyssey, while she actually owned almost nothing, but it was close enough for her to relate to him even better because of it.

As much as she related to Walter, she couldn't help but also feel jealous of him. His self-appointed quest, which was the biggest part of the plot of the movie, had already led him to several beautiful and very far away parts of the world. When, after another stop in New York, he ended up in the lower Himalayas, this time trekking with a full backpack through the snow, she couldn't help the knot that began forming in her stomach.

 _It's ridiculous to be jealous of a fictional character,_ she told herself. And yet… she had to admit, at least to herself, that she was – despite his awkwardness and his bad luck in what appeared to be most aspects of his life. He had just that, after all. A _life_. What she had… she wondered if it passed as a life. After all, as much as Walter clearly felt that his life was out of his control, he had more control of his than she did over hers.

However, when the guides who'd taken Walter into the mountains sent him on alone toward the man he sought, and he continued climbing a snow covered mountain completely alone, Jane's feelings of jealousy seemed to dissipate. This, after all, was how she had felt so many times since crawling out of the bag in Times Square. That is, that she was doing the impossible – like climbing a mountain, but not quite so literally – all alone. Yes, Kurt was there now, with his arms around her, but there had been enough times when he _hadn't_ that the scene, while beautiful, also haunted her.

A little while later, as the last scene cut to the credits, Jane simply sat, staring at the TV. The song that began playing as the credits slid down the screen was a simple melody with lyrics that somehow fit Jane's mood exactly at that moment. The refrain of the song said over and over, " _Do whatever just to stay alive,"_ but not desperately – instead, the song was sung in the mellowest tone possible.

The only word for how she felt was _overwhelmed._ "Wow," she said, unable to come up with anything else.

Kurt leaned over, his arms still wrapped around her, brushing his chin against her forehead. "So you liked it?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "I don't even… Wow," she repeated. She almost felt like she, too, had been to the places that Walter Mitty had visited in the course of the movie. Then, shaking her head and sighing, she added, "That was the closest I think I've gotten to a real vacation."

"Wait, you don't count The Dark Isles?" he asked with a chuckle. She smiled at him and laughed quietly along with him. That had been _anything_ but vacation. "And certainly not Clearfield…" he added.

"Well, that was better, at least… I mean, we didn't almost…" Her voice trailed off when she realized that what she'd been planning to say wasn't right.

"We didn't what? Almost die?" he asked. "Have you forgotten about the _blizzard_?" He may have been the only person who ever grinned at the mention of having almost died while stuck in a car in a blizzard, but he couldn't help it. Despite that whole near death experience thing, it hadn't been completely unpleasant.

"Oh, right… well…" she replied. They both purposely avoided any mention of Oregon. They could joke about the other two, but not that.

"Well," he said, kissing her temple, "we'll have to do something about that one of these days."

"Oh, yeah?" she asked him. She couldn't help but be surprised – not because it didn't seem like a perfectly normal thing for them to do, but because she wasn't thinking any farther ahead than the end of the following week, when Kurt would be allowed to go back to work and everything would change again. Or maybe it wouldn't… who knew, at this point?

"Definitely," he replied. "I happen to think we've earned a _very_ nice vacation after this past year."

She smiled, but tilted her head up and asked skeptically, "And what are the chances that we could go anywhere and not be called to come right back? Or somehow have or vacation turn into an op?"

It would have been nice if he could have refuted her concerns as impossible, but then again, both scenarios that she'd mentioned seemed almost equally within the realm of possibility.

"I guess there's some situations where that would be more likely than others," he said slowly. "Maybe the answer is… we just need to go somewhere off the grid, where no one can find us." When she raised her eyebrows at him, he added, "We'd come back of course… eventually." Finally, she allowed herself to take in what he was saying. That he was talking about going on vacation with her… somewhere far away and remote… and that they would come back _eventually_ … Was this _real_?

"How does that sound?" he asked, leaning his forehead against the side of her head and closing his eyes.

"It sounds…" she started, finding it hard to finish her sentence. The words were sticking in her throat because her emotions were once again threatening to come to the surface. "…too good to be true. Just like all the rest of this." She felt tears prickling in her eyes and told them defiantly that this was not the time.

He felt a tug in his chest and he smiled as she snuggled lower into the couch, leaning her head gently against his shoulder and closing her eyes for a minute. He pulled his arms around her tighter, leaning back into the cushions of the couch. His left hand came up off of her back then, and he stroked the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair and moving slowly in no particular pattern, just moving.

It wasn't quite lunch time, still more like late morning than mid-day, and there was literally nothing they needed to do, except possibly online shopping. The rest of the day stretched out in front of them, and he couldn't remember the last time sitting around his apartment and doing nothing sounded so very attractive.

"Jane?" he murmured, shifting slightly.

"Mmmmmm…" was her response, so he decided that, for the time being, they could stay exactly where they were. She seemed to be dozing off, for one thing, and for another, there was nowhere else they needed to go. All of this was, of course, completely okay with him. He leaned his head against hers, letting his eyes fall closed again as well.


	46. How We Got There

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: This chapter ended up being very long somehow, even for me! When I went back to edit it, I was sure that I'd end up splitting it somewhere along the way. However, I read through it and couldn't find anywhere that I was happy with splitting it, so… here you go – a ridiculously long chapter. I don't know how many are left after this, I just know that_ _ **this**_ _isn't the last one. Happy reading – and enjoy the new episode tonight!_

It was easy to lose track of time that day, and not just because, for a while, they were sitting with their eyes closed. That expression 'time flies when you're having fun' was particularly true in this case, and since 'having fun' was an understatement for how either of them felt, the time seemed to go even faster. But that was okay, because at least that day, they had plenty of it. They could afford to sit and simply enjoy the fact that for once, they weren't hunting down the bad guys, or alternatively, being hunted down _by_ the bad guys – or even worse, doing both at once.

When Kurt opened his eyes to see that it was already past 12:30 pm, he couldn't help but be surprised. The fact that he was starting to get hungry again made sense now, and he wondered if Jane was actually asleep on his lap, or just relaxing with her eyes closed.

"Hey, Jane," he whispered near her forehead, the closest he could manage to get to her ear at the moment. "Are you asleep?"

"Yes," she replied slowly, her eyes still closed. "I must be, because I'm obviously dreaming."

He chuckled quietly, then asked, "What makes you say that you're dreaming?"

Her head tilted up slowly and she opened her eyes, so that she was looking up at him. "I must be, because there's no way this is real."

"And what if it _is_?" he asked her in amusement.

"I don't know," she replied. "It doesn't seem possible. Things like this… they don't happen to me." Her smile faded and there was sadness in her eyes, but she continued to look at him, almost as though she was searching for something in his face.

"That's where you're wrong," he told her, kissing her forehead. "Because they do _now_." He sighed and shook his head, as if he might be about to deliver bad news. "I guess you're just going to have to get used to it." His mischievous smile returned then, as did the twinkle in his eye.

"I think I can handle that," she whispered, a hint of a smile reappearing on her face as well. She inhaled slowly and deeply, then exhaled the same way, trying to take in as much of that moment as humanly possible. As much as she wanted to, it was hard to make herself believe that she could have something this… _good_. Something that made her so happy. Which seemed silly, because it was what she had _wanted_ for a long time, and now that she _had_ it… Well, this whole getting used to happiness thing would take some time.

Just then, Kurt's stomach gurgled loudly, and they both laughed. "I think your stomach has something to say," she said in amusement.

"Apparently," he agreed. "And I have a feeling I know what that something _is_. But then, it _is_ lunch time, so it really shouldn't be much of a surprise."

"It's _lunch time_?" Jane asked in surprise, sitting up and looking towards the clock. "Already?"

He chuckled at her surprise, because the morning really did seem to have flown by. Also, her surprise was adorable. "Do you want to see what else Zapata and Patterson left us for food?" he asked. _He_ was certainly becoming more and more interested in that information by the minute.

"Good idea," she nodded, sitting up and stretching her arms up over her head, before reluctantly, and very carefully, swinging her legs off of Kurt's lap and putting her feet on the floor. She leaned against his side for a few seconds before standing up, then stretched again once she was on her feet. "I've never enjoyed just sitting around so much," she said, watching him stand up very slowly. "Come to think of it," she correctly herself, "I don't think I've ever enjoyed it _at all_."

"You just need more practice," he assured her as they walked back toward the kitchen.

"Maybe you're right," she said thoughtfully, opening the refrigerator. Kurt's kitchen had never been nearly as empty as Jane's, but his refrigerator was suddenly significantly better stocked than it had been the last time he'd looked inside, about a week ago.

"Wow," he said in surprise. "They went a little crazy." He stood behind Jane, unconsciously putting his arms around her waist as he peered over her shoulder into the refrigerator.

"I don't think I've ever seen that much ready-made food outside of a grocery store," she said with a grin. "They obviously didn't want me attempting to cook."

"Good," he said, which earned him a curious sideways glance from Jane over her shoulder. "For two reasons. One, well, we still need to work on that particular skill of yours, remember? And two, because that means I get more of your attention."

"Good save," she told him, shaking her head as she grinned, leaning her head against his and looking back at the food in front of them. "So what do you feel like?" His stomach rumbled again just then, helping him narrow down his choices.

"I think it should be something fast, like those sandwiches," he told her. Jane nodded and reached for the plastic deli container on the second shelf which held several sandwiches on large rolls. Behind her, Kurt stepped back to give her room to step back as well, and she closed the refrigerator. Once again, out of habit, he walked toward the cupboard that held plates, stopping in front of it when he tried to reach up, remembering just a little too late that he shouldn't even try to put his arms that high.

Jane had followed him, and was shaking her head at him. "Habit," he said simply, rolling his eyes.

"You take these," she told him, handing him the container, "and I'll get the plates. Okay?"

"Probably the better plan," he agreed with a smile, taking the sandwiches and walking slowly to the table. Jane got down the plates, as well as two glasses, which she set on the counter. She brought the plates to the table and then went back to the kitchen, putting several ice cubes in each glass and filling them with water. When she sat down, Kurt had already investigated the food.

"Ham or turkey?" he asked. She shrugged, looking down at the sandwiches. She liked both, and she wasn't picky. The only thing she could think was that both of them were _much_ too big.

"Uh, either," she said. "But I should just cut off a piece… there's no way I'm going to eat even half of either one."

"They _are_ pretty big," he agreed. He started to get up from his chair, but she reached out and covered his hand, leaning against the table for support, with hers.

"Stay there," she told him. "I've got it."

He smiled at her crookedly, knowing that she probably wouldn't take no for an answer. She stood up and went back to the kitchen for a knife, sitting back down with it and asking him, "Is this what you were going to get?"

"It is," he said. "I see you're reading my mind."

"Am I?" she asked.

"So far. So what am I thinking now?" he asked with a gleam in his eyes.

"Let's see," she said, putting the knife on the table and looking at him carefully as if her answer required intense concentration. "You're thinking, _Hurry up and pick up the knife and cut a piece, because I want to know which sandwich you want, so that_ _ **I**_ _can eat, already._ Am I right?" she asked with a grin.

"Absolutely," he replied.

Without waiting any longer, she did just that, and cut a piece off the end of the ham sandwich that was less than a quarter of the half closest to her. She felt him watching her, and when she looked up at him she swore he looked like he was about to say something, but he picked up half of the turkey sandwich instead. His concern was for her well-being, she knew, but she couldn't help feeling self-conscious.

Slowly but surely she ate the piece of sandwich that she had taken, and Kurt did his best not to comment on how small it was. The look on his face, however, said enough. She knew how he felt about the subject – that he wanted her to eat more – and he knew how she felt – that she was doing her best. Of course, she was doing it in no small part because he was there to ensure that she did. Yes, _she_ was there officially to take care of _him_ , but the arrangement wasn't completely one-sided. Left to her own devices, she probably would have eaten _far_ less… just like she'd been doing for months.

Jane finished eating before Kurt, and just sat and watched him. Her hands rested on the table, her plate pushed to the side. She'd finished the small piece of sandwich that she'd cut for herself as well as a bite sized piece of the turkey sandwich that Kurt had offered her for comparison's sake. While it hadn't really seemed like much to him, it was enough for her.

 _Baby steps_ , she told herself. She liked being able to look down at her plate and not see lots of food remaining, for once, even though it was because she'd taken so little to start with.

"Are you sure you had enough?" he asked, and she smiled at his concern.

"I'm sure," she told him.

He reached across the space that separated them at the round table, his hand coming to rest on top of hers. She'd been thinking of clearing the table, but those thoughts suddenly evaporated when his hand landed on top of hers. His skin felt warm against the back of her hand, and despite how much combat and other fight training they'd both had, his fingers moved so gently, you never would have known what they had been used for in the name of his job.

Jane smiled up at him, feeling almost shy for some reason. It was the most innocent of touches, and yet, she felt her pulse quicken instantly. It seemed that he had that effect on her no matter what, now that she was willing to let herself feel it, sometimes even just from standing close to her. She wasn't surprised, exactly, because it had always been that way between them – even when they'd first met. No, what surprised her was the intensity of her feelings from something so simple.

She didn't remember _ever_ feeling that way about Oscar or Oliver, no matter _what_ they had done – and she had _slept with_ Oscar. Her feelings for Kurt were so unique, that it felt wrong to compare him to the other two. Oscar had been… well, he had known her history. But he had known _Remi_ , not Jane. Looking back, that had really been the only reason she was drawn to him. He represented something that she _wanted_ – a past – and he was the only one who could give it to her. She had confused those feelings with wanting _him,_ but only for a little while. After all, Oscar had remembered their feelings for each other, but she hadn't. She knew that Remi had loved him, and loved him deeply judging from the flashbacks she'd had of that time. But Jane? She looked at him and saw a stranger, someone that she learned over and over again she couldn't trust.

And then of course, there was that pesky matter of his wanting to overthrow the government and burn society to the ground. Since she no longer wanted _that_ , there really wouldn't have been a future for them even if she _had_ still had feelings for him. She hadn't wanted to kill him, of course, but she couldn't say that she mourned his loss. While she hated that she'd taken his life, she would have felt that way if he'd been another person who'd been in that same situation. It wasn't personal.

Oliver, on the other hand… well, he'd been a nice enough guy. In the end, however, she could just never have told him everything, and what kind of relationship would that have made? Besides, how well would he possibly have reacted to learn that Kurt's name was tattooed on her back? It had never gotten to that point, and she didn't regret that. In the end, she'd finally realized that what she had with Oliver wasn't what she wanted. She enjoyed his company, yes, but she could only share part of herself with him, and that simply wasn't enough. And though she hadn't been consciously thinking it, her standard for how things _should_ feel had been heavily influenced by how she had felt with Kurt when things had been good between them. Oliver would never had been able to compete with _that_. The truth, though she hadn't known it at the time, was that _no one_ would be able to compete with that.

No, when all was said and done, there really was no comparison. After all, that was why she was there with Kurt, and not either of the other two, or with anyone else. It seemed obvious now, even though it had taken so long to figure it out.

"Back to the couch?" he asked.

All those thoughts had flown through her head in seconds, and she couldn't help but smile. Even that brief trip down memory lane made the present, and the chance to look up and see Kurt looking back at her, that much sweeter.

"Sure," she said. He withdrew his hand from hers slowly, standing up as she took his plate to stack on top of hers. "I'll meet you there," she told him, putting the container with a few leftover pieces of sandwich on top of the plates and walking back to the kitchen with them.

As he watched her walk toward the kitchen, he smiled yet again at how normal it felt to have her walking around his apartment, putting things away. It was part of what she was there for, he knew – to be sure that he rested and didn't overdo it – but he couldn't help but think that it felt like they were playing house, as if she'd just suddenly moved in. Considering that most of her possessions were there, because she had so few, he supposed that she practically _had_ moved in. The arrangement wasn't permanent, of course, but he decided not to dwell on that part, and certainly not to tell Jane that that was how it felt to him. He didn't want her to feel overwhelmed, or uncomfortable.

 _You know she probably feels exactly the way you do,_ the voice in his head told him. Considering how in synch they usually were, it seemed like a distinct possibility. And yet… he wasn't about to make that admission. At least not yet.

Settling himself back on the couch where he'd been before, he watched as she put the dishes from the past few meals into the dishwasher. Again, it felt like a perfectly normal thing for her to do. When she finished, as she turned to walk toward him with a bright smile, she caught him watching her. He didn't mind, however. Besides, it wasn't exactly a secret that he liked to look at her.

Sitting down in the small space between him and the end of the couch, then turning to lean against the pillow at the end as she had before, she noticed his laptop now sitting by her feet. Hoping that it was there for a work related purpose, rather than the one that seemed more likely, she purposely ignored mentioning it. Looking back at him as she settled against the couch, she leaned her head against his shoulder gently. He'd kept the TV remote within reach this time, and he flicked the TV on, flipping through the channels until he stopped on something that Jane completely tuned out. Whatever was on the TV, it didn't really matter.

"You know what we were doing a week ago?" she asked him. His right hand was resting on her knees, and her right hand was absently tracing the back of his hand, looking down at the contrast between her ink covered skin and his, without any marks at all.

Without giving it much thought, since he was distracted by how close she was to him, he asked, "What?"

She chuckled softly, feeling as though she was remembering a past life that she hadn't particularly enjoyed. "Working, on opposite sides of a glass wall," she replied. "Not really speaking to each other unless it was necessary. And at least for me, avoiding thinking about Patterson's party."

When she watched his face change, she immediately regretted bringing it up. The look on his face was somewhere between a sad smile, a grimace, regret and pain. If she could have taken the words back, she would have. In seconds she felt the dismay taking over her face.

He felt as though he was remembering something that he had seen happening to someone else. Someone who he pitied. In a way, he did pity the person that he had been back then. Of course he knew _why_ he'd done the things he'd done, why it had been so hard to get back to a place where he could even look at her and not feel betrayed. Exhaling slowly, he leaned forward until his forehead leaned against her temple.

"I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have—" she said, shaking her head. His forehead pressed against her head until it stilled.

"You're right. That _is_ what we were doing a week ago. Nothing we can do about that. It's just a fact. But you know what?" he asked in a voice full of warmth. She breathed in slowly and turned to look up at him.

"What?" she asked, her chest hurting a little just from thinking about that time that was so recent, though it felt like so long ago.

Her hands had pulled back into her lap, and he took them in his, gently but insistently tugging them back up onto her knees, his thumbs moving slowly along the patterns and shapes on the skin of the backs of her hands and her wrists while his other fingers cradled the palms of her hands. She looked down to watch his unconscious progress for a minute, then, when he didn't immediately answer, she looked back up at him. He'd been watching her, she realized, and the pained look that had been on his face earlier was gone. Now, if she didn't know better, she'd say that what was in his eyes was – if she wasn't imagining it – _love_.

 _Why not?_ the voice in her head asked. _He's said it already. Why is it such a surprise?_

When he had her attention, he continued. "A week ago _in a few more hours_ , we were sitting in a stairwell, talking for the first time in a long, long time," he told her, choosing his words carefully. "And a week ago and a few more hours than that, we were here. That day a week ago… it wasn't so bad. The beginning part was just… how we got there."

"Kind of like the rest of my life," she said ruefully, looking down. She could see how hard he was trying to reassure her, and she wanted to believe him… As always, it was just so hard to let go of the past.

"That's not just you, Jane. Everyone has parts of their life – most of us, lots of them, though I'll admit that some have more than others – that they would call 'how they got to the good part.'" And I'm not going to try and say that my life has been harder than yours, but I pretty much consider at least twenty-five years of my life to be ' _how I got here_.' It's a hell of a long set up, that's for sure." He shook his head and smiled sadly at the thought, memories of so many painful parts of his life, mostly in some way related to Taylor, flashing before his eyes in seconds before he could quickly make himself focus on her again.

"But we're here now," she said quietly, realizing that that had been Kurt's point all along. He'd just let her get there on her own.

Her smile increased then, to his relief, and was once again genuine. _What a pair we are,_ he thought. There were so many problems, so many issues between them, it was a wonder they could function together… and yet not only did they just _work_ , they did so perfectly.

 _Or maybe the baggage is what makes you the right guy for the job._ Her words from so long ago, back at the beginning as they'd stood by the elevator, came to him then.

"Yes we are," he agreed. "And that's what matters."

"It makes a hell of a story, though," she said with a chuckle. Then, imitating a random person, she said in a cheerful voice, "So, how did you guys meet?"

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully, "Why don't we just stick with 'through work?'"

"What?" she asked innocently. "You don't want to say, 'Well, she crawled out of a bag naked in Times Square with my name tattooed on her back, along with hundreds of other tattoos over her entire body, so we were destined to meet and solve the riddles of those tattoos. We only discovered later that she wasn't my long lost best friend, as we'd thought, but actually a terrorist whose mind had been erased before she'd been sent to infiltrate the FBI?'" She paused then, trying to keep a straight face. "Why not?"

He chuckled at her, shaking his head. "Well, for one thing, most of that is classified. And besides," he added thoughtfully, "who in their right mind would let it go at that? No, whoever heard that would find it so interesting, we'd never get rid of them. And I just don't like other people enough to want to share you with them indefinitely." He stopped and smiled in surprise, as if the words had come out of his mouth without his permission. It was the truth, but he hadn't even realized it until he'd said it.

There was something so endearing about what he'd just said, not least the fact that he seemed as surprised by the words as she did. With a grin she said, "Well, that makes sense, I guess. Alright, we'll stick with 'We met through work.' Not that I think we'll get that question much, everyone we know are people that we know _through work_." Then, sighing happily, she leaned her right temple against his shoulder, letting her eyes close.

She looked so peaceful, all at once, and he leaned down towards her forehead. The waves of her hair had fallen over it, and he simply pushed them gently to the side with his nose, nuzzling against her skin and then planting a kiss in the center. Instead of moving his face back, he simply let it rest against her forehead, closing his eyes and trying to memorize that moment. He felt her sigh contentedly.

"I love you," she murmured, so quietly that he wouldn't have heard her if he'd been much farther away.

He took both of her hands in his and squeezed them lightly, brushing his nose against her forehead again, slowly, until it was back where it had started, before he answered. "I love _you_ ," he replied. He had never meant anything more in his life.

The afternoon passed without them really noticing. The TV droned on in the background. Sometimes they noticed it, commenting on what they saw or heard, but mostly they ignored it, too busy paying attention to each other, or to drifting in and out of a blissful, quiet semi-consciousness. With the exception of the bathroom or to get a glass of water, neither of them went anywhere – nor did they have any desire to.

At dinner time, they tried some pasta that they found in the refrigerator, and once again agreed that they needed to find a way to sufficiently thank the rest of the team for ensuring that they were so well provided for. Jane asked him if he needed more of the medicine he'd come home with, but he managed to convince her that he would take it before bed, but not just yet. She let it slide, feeling like another few hours or so was an acceptable compromise, since she hadn't seen him wincing in pain lately.

It was still relatively early when they agreed that it was late enough to change into their pajamas and move back to the bedroom. After a day spent mostly relaxing on the couch, that actually counted as a change of scenery, after all. Jane quickly cleared away the few dishes that were on the counter, putting them in the dishwasher, and they both took turns in the bathroom. Again, Kurt couldn't help but feel like Jane had always been there, even though it had only been twenty-four hours.

Jane was sitting on the bed, the TV tuned to something she had yet to identify, when Kurt walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. "Habit," he said, tilting his head toward the door. He'd lived with Sarah and Sawyer long enough that it felt strange to leave the bedroom door open when he went to bed.

"I read that it's safer to close your bedroom door, in case of fire," Jane told him. "So there's actually a reason it's a good idea, besides just being a habit."

He nodded thoughtfully, walking around the bed to "his" side. As he did, she leaned over and pulled back the covers for him, so that he didn't have to stretch to do it.

"Thanks," he said with a smile.

"Of course," she replied. "And I left your pill over there, on the night stand," she added. When he looked down, he saw that she was right. It sat beside a glass of water.

"Thank you, again," he said in a softer voice. "You take such good care of me." Very slowly, he sat down on the bed, only turning to face the TV once he was sitting down.

"I try," she said. "You don't always make it so easy." He looked at her with raised eyebrows, and she made a face at him. "I know, I have the same problem."

"You do," he affirmed, nodding slightly. He finished shifting, grimacing slightly.

"You okay?" she asked with concern.

"Yep," he replied, smiling at her. He hadn't leaned back yet, and Jane realized that once again, he'd changed his pants but was still wearing the t-shirt that he'd been wearing all day.

"Ready for some help with that shirt?" she asked, unable to help smiling at him. There was something she enjoyed about doing this. She wasn't sure whether it was because he was surrendering enough control to let her help him, or because she got to take his shirt off… probably both. Either way, she tried not to let on how much she'd started to like this part, though she was fairly sure he knew anyway. After all, that was the problem with having a deep connection with a well-trained FBI agent, she supposed.

"Absolutely," he smiled at her, raising and then dropping his eyebrows playfully several times in quick succession and grinning. They'd done this a few times now, and it was simultaneously very innocent and yet also very _not_ innocent at the same time, which he loved. The fact that something could be two complete opposites at once was just like Jane – she was as tough as nails and yet also as fragile as glass at almost any moment. He loved that about her.

She thought about what angle would be the easiest from which to proceed this time, since she hadn't attempted to remove his shirt when he'd been facing the end of the bed before. Of course, she could have asked him to turn one way or the other. It probably would have made the most sense to get up and walk around the bed to the other side and stand in front of him, then ask him to turn towards her. She _could_ have done that. However, instead she pulled herself up onto her knees and then moved carefully to "step" over his right leg, turning around so that, when she stopped moving, she was kneeling on the bed directly in front of him.

He'd been curious what she was doing, and now it was perfectly clear. It made sense, because the best angle to do this was with her in front of him, and yet this was just a little less innocent than how they'd attempted it the other times – which was perfectly fine with him. His injuries made gave them definite limitations on how _not_ innocent things were going to get, but even besides that, after everything that had happened between them… well, they were _just_ learning to trust each other again, and neither of them was about to rush into anything. When the time was right, they would know – probably sooner than later, but he was content with exactly what he had for the time being.

Just then, what he had was Jane kneeling in front of him and smiling, her cheeks just slightly flushed because of the implication of the way she was sitting, even though she knew that there was no misunderstanding between them. Grinning at the way she suddenly looked at him shyly, he leaned forward to kiss her.

While she knew that she had to hold herself up, because she couldn't lean against him, she did rest her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. Yet again, just like nearly every time, their lips didn't separate until air became a necessity. This time, she moved far enough to lean her forehead against his, keeping it there for long enough that he opened his eyes, tipping his head up towards her while still leaning against her, so that their noses pressed together. They were too close together for him to really focus on her face, but he tried to look at her nonetheless.

"Hey," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Nope," she replied, which confused him because she didn't sound upset at all. "I'm much better than okay."

He chuckled then, leaning back to kiss the tip of her nose and then pulling his face back farther, so that he could look at her. "Well, good," he replied, studying her face carefully. Almost a minute passed, during which he just continued to stare intently into her eyes, and she began to wonder what was going on in his head. "You're so beautiful," he finally whispered, surprising her with his sudden endearment.

She just smiled, slightly embarrassed. "You're not so bad yourself," she said with a grin, sitting back on her knees. "Alright, ready? You distracted me," she chided him.

"I thought it was you that was distracting _me_ ," he insisted, looking perplexed. She just shook her head at him. In other circumstances, sitting there in front of him on his bed, between his knees, this could have been a very different situation. And yet even as imperfect as this may have been, it was perfect nonetheless. After all, if not for the explosion, who knew _where_ the two of them would be right now. It was possible that they might not have been at his place together at all. There was just no way to know. Besides, Kurt was sitting in front of her, grinning that goofy boyish grin that she liked so much. What else could she need? What might have been didn't matter one bit at that moment.

Now accustomed to the routine, Jane tugged both sides of the t-shirt partway up first, and then they worked together on his right side. Once again she stretched the fabric carefully so that he could slowly move his arm as far as he could toward the arm hole, and she could stretch it a little more as necessary. Once his right arm was free, he rested his right hand on her waist. She was sitting up on her knees and leaning slightly forward, needing both hands to do what she was doing, so his hand on her side was not only just a sign of affection, but also helped keep her steady. Smiling down at him knowingly, she pushed the shirt across his right shoulder to his neck, her thumb holding onto the t-shirt and the rest of her fingers trailing across his bare shoulder, just enjoying the ride, so to speak.

After that, once she managed to remove her hand from his shoulder, getting his left arm out of his shirt was easy, as was slipping the shirt off over his head. She sat back down on her heels, still kneeling in front of him. Once again, when she looked down at his abdomen she could see the many bruises left behind by the force of the explosion and of being knocked over, which now looked even darker. Though she tried, she couldn't hide the dismay in her face at seeing his injuries once again.

He watched as her smile faded, and he hated that that was her reaction to him. No, not to him, he knew, but to the state of him after the explosion. Still, he hated to see her look so worried. After all, they'd made it this far, and he really was okay. Stiff and sore and bruised, but alive and okay.

"Hey," he said quietly, at which her eyes moved up quickly to his. "I know it looks bad…"

She was already shaking her head. "No," she said first, then quickly corrected herself. "I mean, _yes_ , it looks bad, but… I was just thinking. I get it. All the times when you were so adamant about me being careful, acting so crazy about me putting myself in danger…"

Just as he opened his mouth to protest, he realized that yes, that was _exactly_ how he'd always acted with her if there was even the slightest hint of danger. His mouth closed again, and he looked back at her with a smile.

As he did, she continued. "I just thought you were being overprotective, and I didn't understand _why_. I figured, I can take care of myself, so I'd be fine. I mean, I guess that I knew that you… _cared_ …" She paused on the word as if she wasn't quite sure if she'd said it right, looking up at him uncertainly before continuing, "but… I guess I get it now. Because I can't even imagine…" The words were bottling up inside her again, but based on all of her past experience, she was fairly sure that he'd gotten her point.

"There's only one explanation for my behavior, all those times," he told her, looking straight into her eyes. "And that is that I loved you back then, even before I realized it." She laughed and shook her head, looking down before meeting his eyes again, only to find that he was looking back at her with the same intense look that had been on his face a minute before. "I'm serious. It seems pretty obvious, now."

For a few seconds, the words _inside_ her brain failed her, just as the ones coming out of her mouth had just done. Then, as she slowly regained the power of coherent thought, she willed herself not to think about all the things that had happened that made it _hard_ to believe that he had loved her – and there were more than just a few. That he had slept with Allie, for example. That he had gotten Allie _pregnant._ That _Allie_ had been the one to tell her, and only because they'd been in a life or death situation. That he'd withheld other information from her – about the isotope test on her tooth, namely. That he had _arrested her_ , for God's sake, without ever giving her a chance to explain. That he'd sent her to rot in the CIA black site. That he had… She shuddered at one word, at let the rest of the though go at that – _Nas_. That he had treated her as an enemy after all she'd done to try to save protect them…

As much as she willed herself not to think of any of these things, every one of them flashed behind her eyes in split second flashes anyway. Her resolve was crumbling, she knew.

 _You're past it,_ the voice in her head suddenly piped up, interrupting the barrage of thoughts about how he had shown her that he _hadn't_ loved her. _Accept that he loved you, even though it's hard to reconcile with his actions, but that he made bad choices. The same way_ _ **you**_ _did. After all, look where you are. Literally, look up and see where you are at this second. You may not want to admit it, but you loved him too, from the beginning. That's why it was all so painful – for both of you. You just didn't recognize the feeling. Seems like he didn't either. And yet… it all turned out okay._

Her eyes darted back up to his then, and she found him watching her intently. To her own surprise, she felt her smile returning as a weight was suddenly lifted off of her. "I guess it's true what they say about hindsight being 20/20," she said slowly, warmth flooding through her. For some reason, when she now thought back to all the times between them when they'd stood close together, or sat in the car, all the times when they'd _connected_ … How many times had she wondered what it was between them, that electric feeling that she didn't get with anyone else? How many times had something _almost_ happened between them? She thought back on all the _happier_ times and realized that they all meant even more now. Now that she knew.

 _He did love me. Even though neither of us knew it._

For a minute, he wasn't sure if she was alright, but as he continued to watch her uncertainly, she slowly looked back up at him. He could see it clearly now – she _was_ okay. He leaned forward just enough so that his hands rested on her arms just above her elbows – about as high as he could reach – and then moved slowly down her arms until he was holding her hands. He sighed then, feeling the limitations of his injuries acutely as he looked down at their hands.

"It's not forever," she said calmly. Even as in synch as they usually were, he was surprised that she'd read him so easily. "Besides, you're _alive_. That's the only thing that matters."

"Well, maybe not the _only_ thing," he said, looking up at her with a mischievous grin, "but it's at the top of the list."

She rolled her eyes at him, smiling widely. "I'm not going anywhere," she told him. "Except right there." Glancing back over her shoulder at the spot beside him, she looked back at him and smiled. "Mostly because I don't think either of us can sleep if I stay right here. But if we could, then I would."

"I wish I could, but sadly you may be right," he told her. "Though, after my ribs heal up…"

"We just can't share a sleeping bag again until then, I guess," she said thoughtfully.

"So you'd like to share a sleeping bag again?" he asked her teasingly, grinning at the suggestion – mostly because he would, too.

"Of course," she replied, blushing slightly. "But I'll pass on the almost freezing to death next time. I'm thinking that kind of thing should be just for fun."

"It's a deal," he said with a grin.

She crawled back over his leg again, back onto his right side, and leaned back against her pillows close beside him. The left side of her was pressed gently against the right side of him from her shoulder down to her foot, and her head dropped onto his shoulder. When she yawned loudly a minute later, he chuckled and looked over to find her eyes already closing. He pointed the remote at the TV to turn it off, then turned his head back towards her.

"Sleepy?" he asked. It wasn't lost on him that while he couldn't say she'd slept _well_ in the past week, she'd done better than what little he knew of her relationship with sleep in the past. He liked to think that gradually, she was sleeping better because she felt safe with him.

Turning onto her left side, so that she faced him, Jane's forehead rested against his shoulder. "Mmmhhmmmm," she murmured. Her right hand came up to take his hand, and his hand then pulled both of their hands up to his face, where he rested the backs of her fingers against his cheek. Her head was down, so he couldn't see her face, but she smiled then. How could she not?

"Good night, Jane," he whispered.

"Night," she replied, almost too quietly to hear. She whispered something else then, that he _didn't_ hear.

"I missed that last part," he told her, chuckling at how cute she was, trying to talk as she fell asleep.

With a great deal of effort, she lifted her head off of his shoulder so that he would, hopefully, hear her better. "I love you," she breathed out quietly.

Leaning down to kiss her forehead just before she dropped it back onto his shoulder, he replied, "I love you, too, Jane."

It had taken him too long to realize it, but now that he had, he couldn't let an opportunity to remind her slip by. His head still turned towards her, he leaned his face into her hair, inhaling deeply and thinking about how strange it all was… how everything could change so completely because of one person. After all, he was not the same person he'd been before he'd met her. Because of her, _everything_ in his life had changed. It had been far from easy, but it had been worth it.

Though he hadn't thought he was tired, he felt himself drifting off. His last conscious thought, as it had been so often over the past week, was a whisper of one word, swirling through his mind like smoke.

 _Jane_.

Hours later, when the sun had made it part way up but it was still considered by most people to be 'very early' to be waking up on a Saturday morning, Jane's eyes fluttered open slowly. To her surprise, she found herself in almost the same position in which she vaguely remembered herself falling asleep – curled on her left side, her legs bent slightly more so that her knees now pressed gently against the side of Kurt's right leg, her forehead against his shoulder and her hand still in his. Their hands had dropped from against his face, and now sat near the crook of his neck instead.

Though she knew that she shouldn't wake him up, the urge to move her fingers against the skin of his neck was strong. She managed to resist only by pulling her hand away, his grasp loose in sleep. Planting a gentle kiss on his shoulder, she propped herself up on her left elbow and just lay there, looking at him in the dim light of the bedroom for nearly a full minute. Remi might have wanted her to believe that she couldn't have this, as she had tried to whisper inside Jane's head from time to time, but Jane knew better. Now that she was here, she wasn't going to let anything or anyone take this new life – the one that included Kurt – away from her. Though she wasn't entirely sure that she deserved it, she knew that _he_ believed that she did, and she would work on trying to believe it as well. Deserved or not, she was here to stay.

As much as she loved lying beside him as slept, and as much as she loved to watch him wake up, she wanted him to sleep as late as possible to help him heal. Knowing that if she stayed there, she would probably end up disturbing him by moving her fingers over his skin, which was the urge she was currently fighting, she slowly and carefully moved toward the edge of the bed. Folding the covers back in place, she then turned to pad silently to the door. She slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her, and after a brief stop in the bathroom, headed into the kitchen. The apartment was, as expected, exactly as they'd left it the night before, still and quiet, only the occasional faint noise of a city waking up coming from outside the window. It was so peaceful.

Her phone sat on the kitchen counter, where she'd left it the previous afternoon and hadn't looked at it since. Who needed a phone when she was off work, and spending all of her time with Kurt? She tapped the _Home_ button to wake up the screen, and saw a text notification from the evening before. It was from Zapata. Swiping her screen, she opened the full message.

 _FYI, the team has decided that we are all celebrating New Year's together,_ it read _. You guys have no say in this. No need to worry about going out – we'll come to you. Not only will we be at Weller's place tomorrow night_ , _we will also handle all of the "party planning." You just do whatever you need to do to make sure that the two of you will be able to stay up til midnight. Take a long nap, or whatever. See you around 8._

Jane smiled at the text. It was so very Zapata to simply announce that they were coming over, rather than ask their opinion. She and Patterson must have hatched this plan together once again, because it sounded like something they would come up with. Reade would undoubtedly have been just along for the ride, like the team player that he was, shaking his head at the two strong willed women.

Though her immediate reaction to the idea of sharing Kurt with the team for the evening was hesitant at best, she realized that eight o'clock that night was still more than twelve hours away. Not that she would have _enough_ of him at any point, but there were enough hours that she had alone with him between now and then that she supposed she could afford to share him that evening. Besides, it was New Year's. It would be fun to do something special.

Setting her phone back down, Jane moved towards the coffee machine on the opposite counter and took out the supplies to get it started. It felt so normal to be spooning coffee into the filter and filling up the water, which was strange in and of itself because it was only the second time she'd done it in this apartment. They'd only been back from the hospital for just over twenty-four hours, and already she felt like she'd always been there. She still thought of it as Kurt's apartment, of course, but it felt completely normal for her to be staying there, even somewhat indefinitely.

While she liked the familiarity that she felt there _very_ much, it was possible that she even liked it _too much_. After all, at some point – probably next week – when Kurt was closer to being recovered and didn't need her help, there would be no reason for her to stay there anymore.

 _ **No**_ _reason?_ the voice in her head repeated. _You sure about that? He might not always need you the way he needs you now, but…_ She silenced the thought, not wanting to get her hopes up. The thought of going back to living at her safe house, especially after how close they had grown over the course of the past week, filled her with a cold feeling of dread.

 _Why even think about that, then?_ she asked herself. _It's almost a week away. Worrying won't change it. At some point, it's going to happen. Worrying will just stop you from enjoying the fact that you're here_ _ **now**_ _._

The voice was right, she knew. She would just have to figure out how to put it out of her mind until it became inevitable. She'd filled and started the coffee machine as she'd had this conversation with herself, and now she stood and listened to its gurgling sounds, watching the liquid slowly drip into the carafe below, and put the unpleasantness out of her mind. It would be _fine_. That was probably the smallest problem she'd encountered since she crawled out of the bag in Times Square. It felt big, but it really wasn't. Slowly, she began to believe it. After all, she'd been worried about coming back to New York, too. Granted, things hadn't exactly gone smoothly since they'd gotten back, but that wasn't a product of their relationship. That was 100% due to the dangerous nature of their jobs.

Back in the bedroom, Kurt's eyes opened slowly as he became conscious that he was once again lying on his back, his entire body feeling like it had been chewed up and spit out by some unfriendly machine. Groaning slightly, he suddenly noticed that no part of him had contact with Jane, who nearly always slept with some part of her touching him. Turning his head slowly, his mind still foggy with sleep, he saw the covers pulled up, as if she'd never been there.

 _But…_

In the time that it took his mind to process the fact that of course Jane had been there, she must just have gotten up already – probably not wanting to wake him – he was awake enough that there would be no going back to sleep. And just to ease that little part of his mind that worried about Jane – because after all, how could he _not_ worry about her, after everything they'd been through? – he pushed himself up slowly, determined to get up and go out to the living room, fully aware that she would be out there doing something completely normal. Knowing her, she'd be either making or drinking coffee, depending how long she'd been up. While he _knew_ this, still, he also knew that he'd feel a whole lot better when he could see it happening with his own eyes.

Shuffling to the door, he found his slippers along the way, pushing his feet into them and immediately feeling warmer. _I should get Jane some slippers_ , he thought, then smiled at himself. He was so far gone when it came to Jane, and he knew it. What's more, he _liked_ it… this feeling that he'd never really believed existed. _Love_.

Looking to his left into the kitchen, he saw Jane, appearing lost in thought as she poured water into the coffee machine. Instantly he felt the knot in his stomach untie itself, and the opposite sensation replaced it. Happiness bordering on elation flooded through him, and he had to stop for a few seconds to keep his balance. She looked so serene, and he was still groggy, so he headed into the bathroom without a word, wondering if, if he was quiet enough, he could still surprise her when he came back _out_ of the bathroom. He supposed he'd find out in a minute.

She'd been so lost in thought, standing at the counter and staring at the coffee slowly filling up, that she was surprised when, without warning, Kurt's arms were around her waist and his chest pressed – albeit slowly and carefully – against her back as he stood behind her.

"Good morning," his voice rumbled in her ear, so close that she could smell his minty fresh breath as his cheek pressed against hers. At this angle, he could actually lean down enough to speak into her ear, the way she'd quickly grown accustomed to him doing before he'd gotten hurt, and she realized only then how much she'd missed it.

"Good morning," she said, her face instantly breaking into a smile as she turned her head towards him, pressing her cheek harder against his in an attempt to look at him over her shoulder. _This_ was what she'd been missing. Not being able to bend or twist had kept him from getting quite this close to her unless they were standing up, which wasn't exactly conducive to resting, unfortunately.

For a minute she just stood there, breathing in the sensation that was about as close to bliss as anything she had experienced. "It's really a shame that there's not more standing up involved in recovering from surgery, because this is much better," she murmured, turning just a little farther to kiss his stubbly cheek. Leaning back only enough to see him grinning at her, she added, "I tried not to wake you up… I figured you could use the sleep."

"I definitely prefer waking up with you there to waking up without you," he told her sincerely.

She was beginning to understand where the phrase _her heart melted_ came from, because she felt like that was exactly what was happening.

Exhaling slowly, she smiled and leaned her face against his a little harder. Even in the short span of her experience as Jane, she knew all too well how it felt to be overwhelmed by pain… but being overwhelmed by _joy_? That was something that she simply didn't know how to process. And so she stood there, unable to come up with words to form a response. Even though she was unable to do anything but just smile, she felt pain in her chest at the same time.

 _Breathe,_ she told herself, not able to focus on anything else. _Just breathe._

With Jane, he couldn't always know what would trigger her. Some things were obvious, but over the past week, he'd been learning the less obvious ones. One thing he _could_ read very well was her reactions. He might not always know what would cause them, but once something shifted in her, he could generally tell almost immediately. When he felt her stiffen, he knew instinctively that it wasn't that he'd said anything wrong. He knew her, after all… Pain, sadly, was something that she was all too familiar with. She could block it out. But happiness? She didn't know what to do with that, so it was harder for her to process.

With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around slowly. She didn't fight against him, just allowed herself to be moved. He could see that she was momentarily stuck inside her own head. Once she was facing him, he leaned his face down until it made contact with her, kissing the skin on the top of her shoulder, just inside the neckline of her t-shirt. Actually it was _his_ shirt, which was why it sat so far off center on her, and why the top of her shoulder was within the shirt's neckline, and therefore exposed – even after she'd washed her clothes the day before, when he'd offered her one of his t-shirts to sleep in as they'd gotten ready for bed, she'd happily accepted. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who liked to see her in his clothes.

Rather than move away after that one kiss, he left his face there, leaning down further to rest the bridge of his nose against her shoulder and just breathing calmly, hoping that she would find it reassuring.

As the feeling of paralysis abated and her breathing returned to normal, she found that her previous assumption had been wrong. No, every time she thought that she couldn't love him more, he proved her wrong. Turning her head towards his, she brought her left hand up to the back of his neck at the same time, so that as her fingers settled gently against the skin there, her temple leaned into his hair. She kissed his head just behind his ear, because it was what she could reach, and he raised his head slowly to look at her.

"It's the truth," he told her, referring to his comment about waking up with her or without her, even though it had now been more than a few minutes ago.

"I know," she whispered, not looking away. "It's how I feel too. I had to make myself get up, or I would have woken you up earlier… and you needed to sleep."

"Forget sleep," he said dismissively. "I'm taking it easy. I haven't gone to work… That's the goal, right?" He grinned at her innocently, as if he was being perfectly logical. "Besides, I don't need extra sleep. I need _you._ " He said it seriously, but she still cracked a smile.

"I think your doctor might disagree," she pointed out, to which he snorted dismissively.

"They know a lot, but they don't know _everything_ ," he said. "Trust me. You are better than medicine."

"Of course I trust you," she said, looking him directly in the eyes. They both knew that he wasn't just talking about her trusting him in that one instance, but in a much larger sense. "But I'm not a substitute for medicine. Which, by the way, you need to take."

The coffee machine had made the loud gurgling noise that signaled that it was finished brewing some minutes ago, and after staring into his eyes and then slowly smiling, she had turned back to it, still encircled in Kurt's arms, which loosened to allow her to turn, but stayed fastened around her, as if he was afraid that someone might try to steal her from under his nose. Feeling as though she was moving in slow motion, she poured coffee into the two mugs she'd set on the counter.

While she'd been turned away from him, something had overtaken him. He couldn't describe it really, other than that it reminded him of the feeling he'd had for the split second when he'd woken up and she wasn't there, before logic and his brain had kicked in. It was almost like panic, even when he knew that rationally, there was nothing to panic about. He had his arms around her, for goodness sake!

When she tried to turn around, holding a mug that she then held out to him, he loosened his arms around her so that she had room to move. Taking the mug from her in one hand, he immediately set it back down on the counter behind her, pulling his arms around her lower back tighter once again and pulling her toward him.

She hesitated for a second, and he knew that she was probably surprised, but he held onto her tightly anyway. For whatever reason, he'd suddenly seen flashes of all the times he'd almost lost her, or even just _thought_ that he'd lost her.

When he'd put the coffee back down and immediately pulled her closer, she'd known that there was something going on. She began to feel like maybe, though she couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, at that moment he just needed to hold on. She was familiar with the feeling, after all – when it wasn't even something you could articulate, you only knew that you needed to hold on tight. She'd certainly had enough of those times, and it felt good that to be able to do that for someone else. Not just for someone else, for _him_. After so many times that he'd been there for her, it made her happy to return the favor. Her arms were looped around his neck comfortably, and she smiled at him, feeling the tension in him very slowly abate.

"Hey," she said quietly, keeping her tone light. "You okay? Neither of us _usually_ does the breaking down thing this early… at least not before we have coffee…"

He chuckled, leaning back slowly from her and feeling the panic, or whatever it had been, finally subsiding. "Yep," he said, nodding. "I just needed…" Shaking his head slowly, he tried to gather his thoughts.

"Hey, I'm the last person you have to explain _that_ feeling to," she assured him. "I think that was my specialty the first day I met you. It was like my default setting for a long time. Before…" She was going to say more, but found that like his, her sentence had also evaporated. And like his, the end of her sentence was also unnecessary. She forced her smile to remain in place, though now it was her who felt her insides waver.

Smiling fondly at her, he nodded. "I remember," he told her. She remembered, too, he knew, so he left it at that. And because they both remembered so many things, those two words were enough.

"We seem to be having a conversation made up solely of half sentences," she said wryly, quickly recovering her composure. She watched him carefully for a minute, looking for any sign that the smile on his face was forced even a little bit. Finally satisfied that he was alright, she felt her own face relax. "Ready for coffee now?" she asked tentatively.

"Absolutely," he grinned. He knew that she understood, but he still felt a little silly.

"So I got an interesting text from Zapata," she told him, glad to be able to change the subject. He leaned around her, purposely much closer to than was strictly necessary, to pick up his coffee. She turned back around to get hers, finished adding everything she wanted into it, then turned back around to find him standing closer to her than he'd expected.

"Do you want to go sit down?" he asked her. She swore he leaned even closer to her when he said it, and she was ninety-nine percent sure that he did it on purpose.

"I know I should agree, because I'm supposed to keep you resting," she said slowly. "But I happen to like this a lot better than sitting down."

Chuckling, he leaned closer still, until their faces were only inches apart. "Is that so?" he asked. Then his expression changed and he was no longer teasing her. "I know, this whole being injured thing sucks," he agreed. "But I just got up. I feel pretty well rested at the moment. I think I can afford to stand here a little while longer."

Sipping her coffee, she smiled up at him. She was holding her coffee in her right hand, and he shifted his to his left hand so that their mugs were on the same side. Then without taking his eyes off of her, he reached out his right hand to her left, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. His eyes hadn't left her face, and he watched as her smile intensified before his eyes, which only made him smile harder in return.

 _It really is for the best that there's no one else here,_ the voice in his head said, _because you guys are disgustingly cute._

 _I can live with that,_ he replied to the voice, still not taking his eyes off of Jane.

Then remembering what Jane had started to tell him before, he said, "So what about a text from Zapata?"

"Oh, right," she said with a smile. "You may have gotten one too, I'm not sure." She was glad to see the conversation taking a normal turn. She'd been worried about him for a few minutes there. "Basically, they have decided that the team is coming over here to celebrate New Year's with us tonight. As in, they are taking care of all the _logistics_ , and will be here at eight. She specifically said that all we had to do was whatever was necessary for us to be able to stay up until midnight. Like, take a long nap if necessary."

"Wow," he replied, "that _is_ an interesting text." Jane set down her coffee and turned slightly toward the counter behind her to pick up her phone, pulled up the text and then turned the screen so he could read it for himself. Kurt just nodded, grinning and shaking his head. "They've been busy planning things," he said as Jane put the phone back down and picked up her coffee again. "See what happens when the boss is out of the office? It sounds like fun, though. I was never one for big New Year's parties. This actually sounds just like the kind of thing I prefer."

"Oh, yeah?" Jane asked curiously. Most of the time, she felt like she knew him pretty well, but when it came to what he liked to do in his spare time… Well, until the past week, he hadn't had much spare time for her to witness him filling. Besides, they hadn't exactly been on the terms that would have made her learning that kind of thing very easy for quite some time. In any case, she was fascinated to know more about a side of him that she previously hadn't.

"Absolutely," he said. "The crowds get crazy out there on New Year's… _people in general_ get crazy on New Year's. We deal with enough of that kind of thing every day, so no sense adding in the extra madness of a major celebration."

"Have you ever gone to Times Square for New Year's?" she asked him curiously. "I mean, you live in New York City… it's right there." She'd heard all about the yearly celebrations, and she was quite curious.

He nodded, thinking back on New Years past. "Yeah, I've done that a couple times. I think that each of those times, someone dragged me there against my will," he said thoughtfully, which made Jane smile. "Allie talked me into it once, and Sarah another time." Had there been more? He couldn't remember. "Honestly, I'm just as happy not to deal with millions of people in the street, though. It's like a security nightmare waiting to happen."

Jane nodded, seeing it from the perspective of Kurt Weller, FBI agent. When you did the job they did, it was hard, if not impossible, to turn off the professional instincts and just be a regular person. Still, she couldn't help but think that someday, she'd like to go. After all, she wasn't upset that he'd gone with Allie – she and Kurt hadn't even known each other then. Hell, she'd been a completely different _person_ then. But he'd been willing to go with Allie, and something inside her couldn't help but hope that she'd be able to convince him to take her, too. Surely, she meant more to him than Allie had, at least from the way he'd described their relationship…

 _Hush,_ she told herself. _That's not something you need to worry about today. It's not going to be this year, so you may as well relax. Besides, he's not_ _ **with**_ _Allie. He's with_ _ **you**_ _. That puts you pretty far ahead of Allie for him, as far as I can tell._

Watching Jane carefully, he could almost hear the thoughts swirling in her head, they were so clear on her face. Leaning forward to kiss her forehead, and then leaning back again, he said, "We can go one of these years, if you want to." He loved the feeling he got when she looked back at him in surprise, clearly not having expected him to read her mind that way. He loved that he knew her that well, that she didn't even have to tell him that that was what she wanted, he just knew. Even though their connection wasn't new, it gave him a jolt of happiness every time it happened.

"Oh, yeah? Didn't you just call it a 'security nightmare waiting to happen?'" she asked.

"I did," he replied. "Maybe I can call in a favor and find somebody who has space in one of the buildings on Times Square, and we can watch from indoors, but still at Times Square… somewhere heated, and with a bathroom and snacks." He grinned at her, and she couldn't help but smile back, nodding enthusiastically.

"That sounds even better," she agreed.

"But I'm pretty sure of one thing," he said, his tone turning slightly serious again.

"What's that?" she asked.

"That the best thing to ever happen in Times Square has already happened," he said, his eyes fixed on hers intently. "Nothing else is going to top _that_."

He hadn't said explicitly that the best thing to happen in Times Square was her showing up there, but he hadn't needed to. It had been clear anyway. "Awwww…" she whispered. Then, smiling at him playfully, she added, "You're right, it does seem like it would be unlikely that _another_ naked women would crawl out of a bag there, and if one did, that you'd be there to see it happen…"

Jane "becoming Jane" was a sensitive topic, of course, and he was impressed that she was joking about it. Knowing that he should still tread carefully, despite her apparently lighthearted comment, he chuckled and thought about how best to proceed. "It wouldn't matter if 100 naked women crawled out of bags all at once," he told her, "it still wouldn't compare. You would still be the best thing to happen to Times Square."

She chuckled at the image of what had happened with her, times 100. "Well, that would seriously increase our workload," she said, feigning seriousness with a twinkle in her eye. "And I could only hope that they didn't _all_ have your name tattooed on their backs… And imagine if they all had _different_ tattoos… _Poor Patterson!_ " Grinning at him, she pretended to think about the logistics of that actually happening.

"You're very funny," he said softly, shaking his head.

"Am I? Thanks," she said with an amused smile.

She'd finished her coffee, and set her mug on the counter to her right. Kurt, in turn, took the last swig of his coffee and put his mug beside hers, leaning closer than necessary to her as he did. Still grinning from his last comment, she let go of his hand and put her hands on the edge of the counter, pushing herself up so that in seconds, she was sitting on it. She went from slightly shorter than Kurt to being just about at his eye level in a few seconds. Almost as soon as she did, he stepped forward again, closing the gap between them, moving into the space between her knees.

He stepped as close to her as he could get while still able to focus on her, their noses almost touching. "I wasn't expecting _that_ ," he said with a grin.

"I'm not just funny. I'm full of surprises, too," she told him. She honestly didn't know what had possessed her to sit on the counter, but now that she had, she saw just what a good idea it had been.

"That you are," he said, reaching up to push a strand of hair behind her ear, then curling his fingers slowly toward his palm, dragging the backs of them lightly along her cheek. "I, on the other hand, am fairly predictable," he added, just before he leaned forward to kiss her, slowly at first, then with slightly more intensity as the moment wore on.

"There's something to be said for predictability," she said breathlessly, when she was able to speak, more than a few minutes later. "I think it's just a matter of finding a good balance of both."

"I think we do pretty well," he said, his arms wound loosely around her, and her arms draped over his shoulders.

"Just _pretty well_?" she asked teasingly. For that she earned an eye roll from him.

"Pretty amazing, then," he corrected himself. "How's that?"

"Much better," she replied, leaning her forehead against his and pulling her arms more tightly around his neck, gently pulling him closer – but slowly, so that she didn't hurt him. Sighing contentedly, she couldn't help but think that she could easily stay right there all day.

 _Well, maybe not all day,_ she thought as she heard the tell-tale sound of a growling stomach.

"Was that you or me?" he asked. "We're so close together, I couldn't tell."

"I'm not even sure," she replied with a laugh, holding onto him just as tightly. "It almost doesn't matter, does it?"

"Nope, because we're both going to eat now," he told her firmly, leaving no room for argument. When he felt her sigh against him, he couldn't help but chuckle, knowing that her objection was mainly against moving any farther away from him than where she was at that moment. Really, he would have been perfectly happy to stay there as well, but not only was _he_ hungry, but part of his responsibility was to make sure that she put more than just coffee into her system. With great effort, he lifted his forehead off of hers, kissing the tip of her nose, and then leaning back to look into her eyes. As always, there was so much emotion visible there, and once again it stunned him that anyone's eyes could be that expressive. It was one of the many things that he loved about her.

"Come on," he said, taking a step back slowly, relieved to feel her arms loosening around his neck and falling back to her sides as he moved. He kept his hands just barely on her waist, not moving more than arms' length from her. "I can't get you down myself this time," he said, once again lamenting the limitations of his injuries, "or I would."

Slipping down off the counter smoothly, his hands still at her waist, she replied, simply, "I know, and that's okay. I'll accept a rain check." Then she turned, and his hands skimmed her sides to land on her waist again, behind her this time, as she walked slowly enough towards the refrigerator that he could keep them there. She couldn't decide what was better – that moment, or the fact that there were so many more moment like that one in their future.

 _Luckily,_ she thought with a smile, _for once, I don't have to choose. For once, I get both – the present and the future._


	47. A Pretty Good Start

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)**_

 _A/N: I know, I know, it's now April, and I haven't quite managed to finish_ _ **December**_ _. I'm close, however, this is NOT the last chapter. It is, however, almost 100% fluff, and I'm not sorry. :)_

After breakfast, once they had both gotten showered and changed, Jane once again helping him into his shirt, they were faced with the question, which was uncharted territory for both of them, of what to do with the hours of free time they had stretching out before them that day. So far they'd gotten to 8:30 am, which meant they had eleven and a half hours until their friends showed up for the party they were apparently hosting. Somewhere in that time, as Zapata had recommended, they agreed that they should take a nap. Not that they didn't both regularly go without sleep for far longer than was healthy, of course, but one of them _was_ recovering from significant injuries. If there was one thing Jane _didn't_ want, it was to slow down Kurt's recovery, which would apparently take weeks.

So despite the fact that it was almost a foreign concept to both of them, they agreed that they would at least try to take a nap, probably after lunch. Beyond that, the day was open for discussion.

"More coffee?" Jane asked, standing up from her chair at the round table. "I'm going over there anyway."

"Since you're going there anyway," he replied, smiling up at her sweetly. "Yes, please."

"For you? Of course," she said, stepping towards him and reaching for his mug. His hand reached out to brush hers before she could pick up the mug, and she glanced at him and smiled. Taking both mugs back to the kitchen with her, she returned a few minutes later with their coffees. As she set his down in front of him, he beckoned her towards him with a glint in his eyes. He was up to something, she could tell. After setting down her own coffee carefully on the table beside his, she stepped closer to him, wondering what he had in mind.

As soon as she was within arms' reach, he was holding her hands, tugging her in his direction. When she was nearly right in front of him, he turned slightly to his left, so that he was facing perpendicular to her. "I don't actually know if this is a good idea or a bad idea, but… let's try it," he told her.

"Try what?" she asked him curiously.

"Sit," he said, glancing down, and then back up at her.

"On your lap, you mean?" she asked. Again, she had no problem with the idea of sitting on his lap, but did have a problem with the thought that she might hurt him.

"It's the same idea as how we were sitting on the couch yesterday, just… closer," he told her, watching her look at him hesitantly.

"Okay, but if I hurt you, you'd better say something. Understand?" she asked him seriously.

"I promise," he replied sincerely, tugging on her hands again.

Her forehead creased in uncertainty as she turned so that his legs were behind her, then lowered herself ever so slowly against them until finally, she was sitting down. His arms clasped around her like a seatbelt, holding her in place, and she looked into his eyes uncertainly.

"Are you okay?" she asked him with concern, despite the fact that he hadn't given any indication that he was in pain. On the contrary, he was smiling at her. "I feel like this might be pushing it…" she added.

"It doesn't hurt, okay?" he assured her, leaning forward to rest his chin on her shoulder, tilting his head towards her. "I feel a lot better, actually." She made a face at him, sure that her sitting on his lap wasn't making him feel _better,_ at least not physically, which was the way she was concerned about hurting him. Still, with his assurance she gradually let herself relax, her posture becoming less rigid.

"You're _sure?_ " she asked him, turning to look straight into his eyes. "Because I can—"

She didn't get a chance to say another word, however, before he leaned forward and kissed her. It was not an unwelcome surprise, and after a few initial seconds of confusion, she found herself kissing him back. After all, if she had to be interrupted, it was a pretty good way for it to happen.

"I'm sure," he whispered, when he finally leaned back to look at her, now sitting slightly above his eye level. Instead of looking worried, she now wore a happy smile on her face.

"That's all I wanted to know," she replied softly, staring into his eyes with a smile. They were mesmerizing, and she'd long since discovered that she could simply stare into them and forget everything around her. At that moment, she was perfectly happy to do just that.

He chuckled at her, leaning over to kiss her cheek and then loosening his right hand from around her waist to pick up her coffee from the table, which was now behind her due to the way she was sitting, and handing it to her. "Here," he told her. "Thought you might want this."

"Thanks," she said, taking it gratefully. "I'd forgotten all about that."

"You forgot about your coffee? Wow, I'm even better than I thought," said in mock surprise. She just shook her head in amusement.

He picked up his coffee as well then, took a sip and then put it back down so that he could once again clasp his hand around her waist. She was amazed at how secure she felt, sitting there like that, with his arms encircling her. It was a feeling that she didn't think she could ever get tired of. Without even realizing it, she closed her eyes, just focusing on how perfect the moment _felt_. It was happening again – just when she'd thought she couldn't love him more, suddenly she _did_.

Her eyes were closed and there was a smile on her face. She was holding herself up so she clearly wasn't falling asleep, so the fact that she was sitting there with her eyes closed was fascinating to him. Leaning forward towards her slowly, he rested his forehead against the side of her head, above her ear, and spoke directly into it.

"So, what do you want to do today?" he asked, leaning just a little farther forward so that the tip of his brushed along the outer ridge of her ear. He actually felt the shiver that ran though her then, and it only made him smile harder.

It had been an ordinary enough question, and yet somehow he had made it something that had literally given her chills. He must have noticed, too, because she swore that he'd pulled her a little tighter almost immediately afterwards.

He left his forehead leaned against her hair, seeing no reason to lean away from her. On the contrary, he wanted to stay as close to her as he could. Remembering that Reade, Patterson and Zapata would be joining them that evening, he felt himself stiffen slightly, almost protectively, at the idea of having to share her with anyone. At that moment, he would gladly have sat and done exactly what they were doing for the rest of time, ignoring the rest of the world.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. She'd felt a change in his posture a few seconds before. It would have been the kind of thing she would have sensed even if she'd just been watching him, but with as many points of contact as they currently had, there was _no way_ she wasn't going to notice. Her eyes were still closed, and she leaned her head towards his slightly.

"I was just thinking," he said, his head still leaned against hers, "about how I have to share you with the team this evening. I don't want to." He knew it sounded ridiculous, but he didn't care. It was the truth.

He felt her chuckle then, and was honestly surprised when she replied, "Yeah, I was thinking that earlier. But it's only for a few hours, and then _they'll_ go, and we'll be alone again. And besides, a New Year's party will be fun."

"You were thinking it, too?" he asked in surprise.

"Of course," she replied, as if it should have been obvious. "I told you, I like having you all to myself."

His head was still leaned against hers, and he nuzzled his nose against her cheek. He just chuckled, feeling better about the evening the way she had described it. "And you're right, I guess it will be fun. Especially because we don't have to go anywhere or do anything. That may be the best kind of party."

She felt her heart beat faster as his nose moved back and forth against her cheek, and she wondered if it was possible to glow with happiness. After all, she'd heard the expression used about pregnant women – _not_ that she was pregnant, of course. However, if it _was_ possible for just anyone to glow with happiness, she was fairly sure that she was doing it. She was surprised, therefore, when she felt his hands unclasp from around her waist, and then his right arm move away from her side completely.

Jane opened her eyes and turned to look at him. The look on her face was almost accusatory, and it made him smile. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to break the trance you were in. Just having some of that coffee you brought me, before it gets too cold. Someone's been distracting me, _again_."

Smiling at him again almost immediately, she replied, "That's allowed. Coffee is important."

Putting down his coffee, he pulled his arms around her once more. "Where was I?" he asked, pulling her closer and leaning his head back against hers where it had been a minute before. "Yes, I think this is it. What do you think?"

"Almost perfect," she said with a happy sigh.

"Almost?" he asked in amusement. He leaned his face closer until not only his forehead but his whole face was pressed against the side of her face, kissing her cheek. "Better?" he asked, his lips still against her skin. While she didn't reply out loud, she nodded ever so slightly. It was a nod so tiny that he probably wouldn't have seen it, if he'd been looking at her, but he felt it. Another thing he could feel from her, which was practically radiating off of her somehow, was happiness. That, in turn, made him happy.

She hadn't quite had the power of speech when he'd asked her if that was better, but he must have understood her almost non-existent nod, because she could actually feel him smiling against her cheek – which may have been the coolest thing she'd ever "seen" without actually seeing it. While she knew that she should suggest that they move back to the couch, which would undoubtedly be more comfortable for _him_ , she herself was so comfortable that she couldn't bring herself to suggest moving – and she was half convinced that she could stay there indefinitely.

The moment was perfect. Maybe too perfect. _Is it possible for something to be too perfect, and yet still be true?_ she wondered. _And if it_ _ **isn't**_ _possible, then what does that mean about this moment? That it isn't actually perfect? Or that it isn't actually possible?_

 _Calm down,_ she told herself. _You are way overthinking this. Just enjoy it._

Of course, it was easier to tell herself to calm down than it was to actually do it, especially once the doubts had entered her mind. Suddenly, she needed reassurance, and she knew exactly how to get it. Opening her eyes, she turned her head ever so slowly, since Kurt's face was still pressed up against the side of her head, until he slowly leaned back from her, opening his eyes as well. She noticed, when he leaned far enough back for her to focus on him, that his smile was as blissfully dopey as she was sure that hers had been.

However, as soon as he saw her face, his expression changed. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

Unable to help herself, she smiled again then. Relief flooded through her, as she'd known that it would. "Nothing," she assured him. "That was all I needed."

His face relaxed slightly, but he still looked confused. "What was?" he asked.

"To look at you," she replied simply, staring into his eyes.

All of a sudden, he had the feeling that his heart was going to burst. This much sweetness had to be impossible.

 _It's like you told Jane yourself,_ the voice in his head piped up, _this is a lot of good making up for years and years of bad. It feels strange because you're not used to it. But this is karma, because you deserve it. All of this good._

 _I don't know if I deserve it,_ he replied in his head, _but I'll sure as hell take it._

 _Whatever works, then,_ the voice replied.

He had a peculiar look on his face, and she studied him carefully then. "Are _you_ okay?" she asked.

"I was just thinking…" he began slowly. The look on her face was encouraging, though he knew that if he'd decided not to go on, she wouldn't have pushed him. "I was thinking that this was just… _impossible_. For anything to be this good, I mean. And I was remembering when I'd told you that we just needed to balance out all those bad memories you have with even more good ones."

It was funny to her how close his thought was to what she herself had _just_ been thinking. "I remember that," she said softly. He wasn't done, she could tell, so she just waited.

"And I never really thought about it but…" He trailed off, then inhaled deeply. He knew what he wanted to say, it was just something that had never occurred to him before, and he was still sort of in awe of the idea, so it was hard to get it out. "…But I guess… I guess I need that, too. I'd just hadn't ever thought about it that way."

She couldn't help but smile, her heart once again feeling like it was overflowing. It was so very much like Kurt to take it upon himself to balance out all of the bad memories she had with good ones, never realizing until so much later that _he_ needed that as well. But _of course_ he did.

"I think if anything, you need it more than I do," she replied evenly, without missing a beat. He looked at her in confusion as she continued. "Think about it," she urged him gently. "I have a small collection of painful memories, all things considered. It barely stretches back more than a year, even when you squeeze them all together. You, on the other hand… yours started, what? When you were ten, if not before?"

Now he saw where she was going with this. _This is so like her,_ he thought. _She always puts everyone else before herself._

 _I know someone else who does that, too,_ said the voice in his head. _Which is exactly what she's trying to tell you._

"You have at least twenty-five years of bad memories to make up for," she told him matter-of-factly, watching as he began shaking his head.

"It's not the same," he insisted. "What happened to me… it wasn't as bad."

She smiled at him with watery eyes. "I think twenty-five years beats a year. Just because the _same_ things weren't done to us doesn't mean that both weren't painful. And you had to live through yours a lot longer, without the ' _benefit_ ' of getting to forget."

He still didn't think he agreed with her, but he had to admit that twenty-five years was an overwhelming amount of time to be plagued by unhappiness. "There have been times where I wished I didn't remember it all," he admitted quietly. "Since I met you, I mean. I would think about what it must be like… And I know that you wanted so desperately to remember, and I wanted to tell you that remembering wasn't always that great… All I could think was how nice it would be to forget."

The smile on her face was sad now, and she nodded in understanding. "I guess I _should_ have realized that when I started having flashbacks about killing people," she said ruefully. "But I was just so desperate… Now that I at least sort of know who I am – not who Remi was, but who I am _now_ – I'm glad I don't remember more than I do," she admitted. "And I'm certainly glad that I – I mean, _Remi –_ was erased and restarted. Because I hate the thought of still being _her_ , and not being me. Of not being _Jane_. And of not being here… with you."

She shivered, and suddenly her smile was gone. He couldn't help but notice that she looked afraid. _It must be such a scary thing,_ he thought, _to know that you used to be a person that you're so completely opposite from. I'd be afraid that they were still in there somewhere._ He didn't say this to Jane, however, for fear of giving her more to worry about.

"But you were," he told her soothingly. " _Restarted,_ I mean. And you _are_. You _are_ Jane, and you _are_ with me. And I'm not going to let anything or anyone change that."

Without thinking, she curled sideways, into him, slowly but surely, even somehow managing to curl her legs up behind her across his lap, leaning her head on his collarbone and trying her best not to press on his ribs – she'd only remembered that part at the very last second before her head had leaned against him, and she'd turned to put her arms around him closer to his waist, so that her right shoulder didn't jab into him.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked with concern as he pulled his arms around her tightly. She had somehow rolled herself into a little ball right there on his lap.

"Not at all," he replied.

"I mean physically," she clarified, not sure if he was joking with her or not.

"No, Jane," he chuckled. He held himself up straight against the back of the chair. "I promise. Okay?"

"But we should still go sit on the couch, before this _does_ hurt you," she said in a muffled voice. She'd tucked her face against him, and even as she made the suggestion, she hated the idea of moving, of not being exactly where she was just then.

"You're probably right," he said agreeably, but he continued holding onto her just as tightly. At that moment he got to feeling that she had the opposite feeling from the one he'd had earlier – that what she needed at that moment was to be held _onto_. "But no rush."

In another minute she was steady enough again, and when he felt her stirring he loosened his arms around her so she could stand up. When she finally did, he stood up slowly as well, both of them making their way leisurely to the couch. Jane hadn't hurt him by lying against him, per se, but he realized that he did feel a little achier than he had before. Sitting that way was, sadly, probably not something they should repeat for a few weeks, at least. He didn't regret it, however, thinking of the feeling of her curled up on his lap.

This time, Kurt sat down further down towards the left side of the couch and then looked up at Jane, who looked perplexed. He took a throw pillow that sat nearby and put it in his lap, looking at her to see if she'd put together what he'd been thinking.

"Changing it up, huh?" she asked, smiling as she realized – thanks to the pillow he was holding – what he had in mind. She sat down beside him, with about a foot in between them, and then turned away from him, pulling her feet up onto the couch and leaning back slowly, looking over her shoulder to see if she had aligned herself correctly.

"Scoot back a little more," he told her, and she obliged, so that when she leaned back the rest of the way, her shoulders and her head were in his lap, her head against the pillow. Gazing up at him, she couldn't help but think that _she_ was the one who was doing more of the relaxing and taking it easy than he was.

"This seems backwards to me," she said, feeling a jolt of electricity as he laid his left arm over her midsection, just slightly above her stomach, and she felt his right hand behind her head, playing with her hair.

"Why?" he asked. "Your hair's more fun to play with than mine. Mine's so short."

"Very funny," she told him. "That wasn't exactly what I meant. Don't get me wrong, I'm _not_ complaining about you playing with my hair. Not at _all._ " In response, his fingers pressed a little harder against her scalp as they moved, giving what he was doing a massage-like feeling to it. He was looking down at her with a grin, and she could see that he was doing it on purpose, enjoying her reaction. It became clear to her that she needed to form words now, before she became so relaxed that she couldn't think straight. "What I meant was, because you're the one who's supposed to be taking it easy and relaxing, not me. And I think I'm about as relaxed as I can get."

He shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Good," he said. "Besides, don't you see me sitting here relaxing? Look, I'll even put my feet up." He lifted his feet up onto the coffee table, causing her to shift slightly. She raised her head to make it easier for him to move, glancing over to see when he was finished. Satisfied that his feet were propped up on the coffee table, she lowered her head again.

"Better," she mused thoughtfully. "Still, maybe we'll have to switch later."

"What's that? You want to switch?" he asked her teasingly.

"Um, no," she told him, feeling overpowered by the endorphins that were flooding her system just then. "Not quite yet. A little later, maybe?" she suggested, not quite realizing that he was teasing her.

"Deal," he said, picking up the TV remote and flipping it on now that they were settled. Jane heard the sound as purely background noise, instead focusing on Kurt's face above her. He looked at the TV for a minute as she heard him flicking through the channels, the hand that had been in her hair now holding the remote, which she quickly decided was _not_ a good tradeoff. However, less than a minute later he found something acceptable on TV, and he must have put down the remote because his hand went back to her hair.

"You don't care what I put on, do you?" he asked in amusement.

"I have no preference for TV. I do, however, prefer that your hand is in my hair, instead of on the remote," she told him bluntly.

He couldn't help but grin at her directness. "Is that so?" he asked. "Like this?" He went back to moving his fingers against her scalp in small circles. She didn't reply, just looked him in the eyes and smiled right back. "Good to know," he said, pretending she'd just told him a secret.

Shaking her head slightly at him, she looked down at his arm draped across her stomach, his hand resting comfortably against her side. Her own hands were free, and so she took his left hand, the one she was looking at, in her right, lacing their fingers together, then began lightly drawing lines that weren't actually there along the back of his hand with her left index finger.

"Are you drawing tattoos on me?" he asked. She could hear a smile in his voice before she even looked up at him, and when she did, she saw him watching her carefully.

"Maybe," she said with a shrug. It was hard to imagine _his_ skin with ink all over it, the way hers had. She stopped moving her finger over his hand and held her left hand still, beside his, staring at the contrast.

There was something about the way she exhaled just then. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he just had a feeling. Reading her expression wasn't possible because she was looking down, appearing to stare at their hands side by side. She'd come a long way since the beginning, when something like just staring at her tattoos could have potentially unnerved her, and he liked to think that with him, she was relatively sure of herself. Still, he also knew that she had plenty of moments that either took her back to those other, less okay times, or that just struck the wrong cord. Like him, she had plenty of baggage left to deal with.

She was still for a minute, then two, and her breathing had become quiet and shallow, at which point he squeezed her right hand, which was still holding onto his. He heard her inhale slowly then, and she glanced up at him. Her expression was… _uncertain_ was the best way he could describe it. His eyebrows arched slightly, asking a question that he didn't even need to say out loud.

 _Are you okay?_

Looking more like herself all of a sudden, she smiled, and clamped her left hand over the top of his. That was enough answer for him. He relaxed and glanced up at something on TV.

What it was on TV that had caught his attention, she didn't know, she just watched him watching it – which was probably strange, but she didn't really care. There was something very soothing about lying with her head in his lap, their hands tightly locked together, and his other hand still absently playing with her hair.

It was _so_ soothing, in fact, that she fell asleep not to long after that. When she woke up, the first thing she saw was Kurt looking down at her with a smile. Shifting slightly, she smiled right back. "Sorry," she said in a sleepy voice, "I didn't meant to fall asleep."

"No problem," he replied.

"You're the one who's supposed to need extra sleep," she protested stubbornly.

"Well, maybe after lunch we'll switch places," he suggested.

"Lunch?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah, it's just about that time," he told her. As if to support his position, she heard a loud growling sound from beside her, which was, of course, his stomach.

"I swear we just ate," she protested.

"Well, yes," he chuckled, "that's what happens when you sleep half the morning."

"Was it _that long_?" she asked in alarm.

"Hmmm… maybe more than half," he corrected himself. Then, seeing the look on her face, he added, "Hey, no big deal. We have plenty of time. Besides, not only did you _not_ have a nightmare, you were actually _smiling_ in your sleep." He'd been looking forward to seeing her reaction to that information, and it was exactly as he'd expected.

She clearly hadn't been expecting him to say that, because she looked genuinely shocked. "Smiling?" she asked, as if the concept of smiling was something she couldn't wrap her head around.

"In your sleep, yes," he told her. "Maybe you're finally getting the hang of this sleeping thing," he said lightly. He hoped he hadn't gone over the line with that comment, because he knew sleep could be a sensitive subject with her.

"Haha," she said, making a face at him. "Or maybe I just sleep better when you're there."

He'd wondered whether his presence was helping her sleep – he certainly _liked_ to think so. Of course, she'd had a few pretty bad nightmares even with him there, but none in the past few nights. Hopefully that was a trend that would continue.

"That theory isn't foolproof, of course," he said gently. When their eyes locked, he was pretty sure they were both thinking about that night in the backyard of the house in Clearfield, out in the snowstorm. "But like any good scientific study, it requires _a lot_ of data, which means testing and more testing. And retesting, for comparison."

"Smooth," Jane said, grinning at him. "I never realized you were so… scientific. I thought that was Patterson's department."

Pretending to be surprised, he looked back at her in what was supposed to be confusion. "I guess she's rubbing off on me… I mean, this just seems like important research… for _science_ ," he said insistently.

Letting go of his hand and then pushing herself up on her elbows, she reached her face up toward his until she was close enough that he could reach down to meet her. Just before their lips met, she whispered, "You are such a dork." Consequently, both of them started the kiss simultaneously fighting peals of laughter, which made for a very unsteady kiss. They were still laughing when she leaned back and sat looking up at him, shaking her head.

"Do I not usually smile in my sleep?" she asked him, recovering the power of speech and turning around to sit beside him. She pulled her right leg up and turned her body towards him. It struck her that just the fact that she could ask him that question, that he had been around her enough, seen her _sleep_ enough, that he could say how she _usually_ looked when she slept… Just that fact made her feel a little bit giddy.

"Never before that I've seen," he told her.

"Hmmm…" she mused aloud. Then, shaking her head at him, she sighed. "You're right," she said reluctantly, "we're going to need to do more research."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he told her. "But first, we're going to need lunch."

They wandered over to the refrigerator, taking out both the leftover sandwiches and leftover pasta, and helping themselves to what they each thought was the right amount. Once again, Jane was very conscious of Kurt watching her as she cut another small piece of the same sandwich she'd eaten a piece of the day before. Hoping to appease him, she also took a small bunch of grapes from a bowl he'd pulled out of the refrigerator, setting it on her plate as well.

He smiled approvingly at her, knowing that she felt his stare. There wasn't much that could be done about the fact that he worried about her, and he wasn't about to stop. All he could do was try not to be overbearing about it. She was trying, he knew, though possibly more for his benefit than her own. Knowing this only made him more determined to get her to start caring more about her own well-being.

After lunch, they were both starting to feel a little bit restless. Neither of them was used to sitting still for anywhere near this long, and as much as they were enjoying each other's undivided attention, they had a little bit of cabin fever.

"What do you think my bossy nurse would say about going for a walk around the block?" he asked her when they were both finished eating.

Even though he'd just called her "bossy nurse," she smiled at him. After all, it was her job, though a self-appointed one, to keep him resting. If that made her bossy, then so be it. It was for his own good, after all, which wasn't something that he often seemed to be too concerned with.

 _Just like you,_ the voice in her head reminded her. _Don't forget, you have the same problem. Which is why he acts the same way with you… and that's part of why you two are so good together._ The thought made her smile unconsciously. They _were_ good together.

"You're been a very good patient so far," she said slowly, concentrating on looking like she was thinking hard about his request. "As long as we take it slow, and you promise not to try to run after any criminals, should we encounter them, then I suppose… that it would be fine." When she watched his face light up, she couldn't help but feel like he was more excited about walking around the block than anyone she'd ever seen before.

 _Not that that's all that many people,_ she said dully in her head, out of habit. Immediately she felt the smile fall from her face.

 _Why do you still do that to yourself?_ the voice in her head asked. So you've had fewer experiences with everything than anyone else has. _So what? Just let it go._

 _I'm trying,_ she thought, _but it's a hard habit to break._ She realized only afterwards that she'd sighed out loud.

"You're not rethinking your decision, I hope?" he asked. Focusing on him again, it became obvious to her that she'd gotten lost in her own thoughts for a minute.

"No, I just…" Shaking her head, she glanced down at the table, and then back up at him. "That was just my brain, sabotaging me again." It felt good to be able to tell him that.

"I have something to say to your brain," he told her seriously as she tilted her head curiously at him. When he slowly stood up, she did the same, stepping forward to stand close to him. It hadn't been all that long since she'd been laying with her head in his lap on the couch, of course, but it felt like it had, and she felt the same nervous excitement ripple through her as she stepped close to him that she did every time. As he did nearly every time, he looped his arms around waist automatically as soon as she was close enough, hers looping around the middle of him immediately afterwards.

"Is your brain ready to listen?" he asked, acting as though he was totally serious. She knew generally what he was going to say, and that it was a lighthearted way for him to try to combat the demons in her head. The fact that she knew what he was doing didn't diminish it, either. If anything, she found it even more endearing. After all, the fact that he cared enough to be so diligent about trying to build her up meant more to her than the actual words he used.

He leaned his cheek against hers, and then tipped his head down in the direction of her ear. "Alright, Jane's brain," he said evenly. "I know you think that you're helping her by protecting her. But I want to remind you that things have changed. A lot of them. Yes, Jane has been through a lot, and she's made it through all those things because you did what you did to help her. There were a lot of reasons for her to question herself, and everyone around her. I don't know if you've noticed, but like I said, a lot has changed. She still needs to be alert, and to think critically, and I know that what you're doing is a defense mechanism, but I want you to know that I'm watching out for her. She doesn't have to be quite so skeptical of herself. Don't sabotage her. She's doing great, and she's going to be fine. Don't forget to remind her of _that,_ too."

She couldn't help but smile as warmth spread through her. Turning her face to nuzzle the scruff on his face, she kissed his cheek.

"Did your brain receive my message?" he asked softly, not moving his face from the side of hers.

"Loud and clear," she replied. "My brain appreciated it very much." She could feel him smiling against her cheek. For more than a minute neither of them moved, and then suddenly she chuckled.

"What?" he asked, finally leaning back to look at her curiously.

"We're so disgustingly cute, I'm not convinced the other three are going to _survive_ four hours with us," she said with a grin. He laughed along with her then, pulling her a little tighter.

"Well, that's just going to be too bad for them," he said.

"If we're going for a walk, we should go," she reminded him. "You still need a nap."

"You're right," he said seriously, "our day is just jam packed, isn't it?" His eyes twinkled with laughter.

"Shut up," she said, knowing that he was making fun of her, and leaning up to kiss him. Not surprisingly, he didn't resist her technique for quieting him down.

He made a noise of approval, being unable to talk just then, surprise evident on his face.

"I told you, I'm full of surprises," she reminded him a minute later, when their lips were no longer locked together. "Now go and get your jacket on, if you want to go out."

"Uh-oh, the bossy nurse is back," he said teasingly as he reluctantly dropped his arms from around her and they both made their way back toward the door. Finding their jackets where they'd hung them on Thursday night, they were finally ready to brave the outside world once more. After a short elevator ride, they stepped out into the cold, crisp air hand in hand.

The walk around the block was uneventful, and while the wind was colder than either of them would have preferred, they walked slowly – to the annoyance of the people around them. But Jane and Kurt were oblivious to the other people around them just then, just enjoying the chance to be out of the apartment and getting some fresh air, and still enjoying the relative newness of being _together_. They made it back to Kurt's building without anything more serious than pink cheeks, rubbing their gloved palms together for warmth as they walked through the lobby.

Kurt hadn't said anything because he hadn't wanted to bring it up, but he'd been curious if Jane would get that "bad feeling" that she'd had back outside her own place, or that she wasn't sure whether she'd had the other day, sitting and looking out his window. She hadn't mentioned anything, and she hadn't seemed off whatsoever, so he went on to assume that that meant that she hadn't had any such thoughts. He _hoped_ that that was what it meant, anyway.

Back inside, they hung up their jackets and Jane walked into the kitchen, moving around with purpose, looking in one cupboard after another, obviously with something particular in mind.

"Wouldn't it be easier to tell me what you're looking for?" he asked her, standing by the sink and leaning back slightly against the counter, watching her.

She turned around, grinning sheepishly, and replied, "Well, yes. I guess it would. I was just looking to see if you had any hot chocolate."

"Next cabinet over," he told her. "You were almost there."

Moving over to the cupboard that he had indicated, she now felt even more self-conscious, feeling his eyes on her back. Trying to ignore the sensation, she pulled out both hot chocolate and mini-marshmallows, which sat beside it on the shelf. With probably a minute or so until the water was ready, and the mugs and spoons already set out on the counter, she wondered what he would do if she sat up on the counter again. She had a feeling that he'd walk right over and stand in front of her, the way he'd done the last time she'd sat up there, and she was curious to see if her theory was right.

Therefore, when, as soon as she pulled herself up onto the counter, he stood up from where he'd been watching her against the opposite counter and walked over to stand inches away from her once again, she couldn't help but smile in amusement.

"What's so funny?" he asked, looking into her eyes curiously.

"I wondered if you would walk over here as soon as I sat up here," she told him, "and you did."

With a shrug and a grin, he said, "See? Predictable," then lowered his forehead against hers.

After really thinking about it for a minute, enjoying the soothing feeling of their foreheads pressed together, she broke the silence that had descended on them. "I don't know if that's right, though."

"No?" he asked, tilting his head slight to try to be able to look at her without moving his head back from hers, which was only partially successful.

"No," she replied. "Because yes, there are some things about you that I can predict. But there's plenty about me that you can predict, too. Because we know each other so well. But think about the past week… or nine days, now. I'm not going to try and say that nothing surprising has happened in that time. So I guess… there's a lot about you that has surprised me."

Now he _did_ lean back, just enough to look at her, studying her face to try to work out her state of mind, and what kind of surprises she might be talking about. "In a good way, I hope," he said softly.

"In the _best_ way," she assured him.

Neither of them had noticed the low rumbling noise that had started beside them, as involved as they were with looking at each other, so it was a surprise when suddenly there a piercing whistle from just beside them. Being the more mobile one, since he was standing up, Kurt stepped over to the stove to turn off the burner and move the kettle to a cool one. Meanwhile, Jane dumped powder into the two mugs, which she'd forgotten to do before, and then watched as he added hot water to them. She stirred each of them until the powder had dissolved completely as he replaced the kettle on the stove.

"We make a good team," he observed, stepping right back in front of her where he'd been just a few minutes before.

"We do," she agreed with a nod, watching him carefully for no reason other than she liked to.

"And now we should let those cool down just a little before we add the marshmallows," he said. "Otherwise the marshmallows will just melt away before we get to enjoy them."

"Oh, yeah?" she asked suspiciously.

"Absolutely," he told her seriously. "And besides, if I'm standing here waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down, it gives me a minute to stand here with you." He stood with his face so close to hers, their noses were separated by a millimeter at the _most,_ both of them watching the other intently.

"We've done almost nothing but stand, sit and lay near each other for the past eight days," she said, her eyes not leaving his face.

"Yep, it's a pretty good start," he replied, looking back at her evenly.

"A good start, huh?" she asked, the tiny smile on her face suddenly seeming to take it over completely. _How did he always seem to know the right thing to say?_

"Absolutely," he said, completely serious. "That's not nearly enough." There was a hint of a smile on his face, but mostly he just stood and studied hers – still just as close but not quite touching her.

Shaking her head at him just a tiny bit and feeling her face flush with happiness, she leaned forward just enough to press the tip of her nose against his. It was a funny sensation, but one that she was quickly starting to love.

"Ready for marshmallows?" she asked him without moving back.

"Almost," he replied. And then, because she knew exactly what he was referring to, she leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss, just a few seconds long. This was apparently too short for him, because when she leaned back and slid off the counter, he gave her a sad puppy dog eyed look.

"Not enough," he protested, confirming her suspicion as she pretended to ignore him, walking around him with a grin and proceeding to put a small handful of marshmallows into each of their mugs, then turned and handed him his. He narrowed his eyes at her playfully, shaking his head. "I think the power is going to your head," he said, pretending to be alarmed. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"I'd heard that love was a powerful drug," she said. "Looks like they were right. There _may_ be a chance that it's affecting my behavior." Then, after pausing to watch his reaction, which was exactly the surprised smile that she'd expected, she added, "And actually I'm enjoying this exactly the right amount. _All_ of this."

Chuckling at her, because he loved that it seemed like their banter could go on and on for hours, he replied simply, "Good… because I am, too."

They took their hot chocolate to the couch, where they sat side by side, their shoulders pressed comfortably against each other, as he flipped on the TV. A rerun of _American Ninja Warrior_ caught their attention, and he recalled that it was one of the only shows in which Jane had ever showed any interest, at some point, so he left it there.

When their hot chocolate was done, she took both of their mugs back to the kitchen to rinse them out, coming back and sitting down at the far end of the couch. Picking up the same throw pillow that she'd fallen asleep against earlier, she set it in her lap and patted it without a word. He smiled, knowing exactly what she was trying to say. _Your turn._ Moving himself farther over towards her, he slowly turned his body so that he faced away from her, and then carefully lowered himself back towards her, groaning slightly with the effort of holding his mid-section steady.

"Scoot back a little more," she told him. He had to sit back up to do so, but he did, then tried again. That time, his head and shoulders landed in her lap, the same way hers had in his lap that morning.

"There you are," he said.

"You made it," she told him. "You okay there? Ready for your nap?"

"I'm great right here," he assured her. "How are _you_? Let me know if you want me to move…"

"I _don't_ want you to move," she told him quickly, then added, "You're good right there." They looked at each other with matching dopey grins for more than a minute before either of them even realized it. Shouting from the TV as one of the contestants fell off the obstacle course in a particularly spectacular fashion suddenly brought them back to the present, and after a quick glance at the TV, they smiled at each other more normally.

Her left hand was on his right cheek before she even realized it, her thumb moving slowly back and forth across his stubble. She looked down at him, thinking about what a strange sensation it was and how much she liked it. At that moment, she couldn't think of anything about him that she didn't love, which was a big step. All of the things Kurt had done that had _not_ made her feel loved, the ones that had bombarded her mind twenty-four hours before? Those were now nowhere to be found. The only thing she felt at that moment when she looked at him was the very unfamiliar warmth that came from feeling loved.

It was strange, he thought, watching her from this angle. He was the taller that she was, of course, so he wasn't used to looking _up_ at her at all, much less from this angle. There was something about it that he loved, just like pretty much everything else that involved Jane. When she put her hand on his cheek and started moving her thumb back and forth, it was almost as though he could feel himself being hypnotized by her touch. He wondered if she had any idea how much power she had over him, or if her feelings for him could possibly control her as completely as his feelings for her controlled him.

He was fairly sure that if she kept doing what she was doing, he would be getting that nap she'd been telling him he needed sooner than later. Not that that was a problem, except for the fact that he'd rather stay awake and enjoy this moment. So much of the time they'd known each other had consisted of solving cases, chasing suspects or of one or the other of them being in serious danger, besides the months that she had been tortured – because of _him_ , he thought in a flash of misery that he pushed aside – or the months afterwards when he couldn't look at her… so now, the chance to just sit still with her like this, not having to worry about anything or anyone else was a special kind of luxury.

 _You have several more days of this forced rest until you're even allowed to think about going back to work,_ he reminded himself. _You can afford to close your eyes. You want to be awake tonight to ring in the New Year, don't you?_ With this logic in mind, he stopped fighting the sleepiness he was feeling more and more each minute.

Watching him yawn, she couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was something about that position that worked such wonders when it came to lulling them to sleep. His eyes were halfway closed already, and she was sure that he was already more than halfway unconscious, when his sleepy voice asked her, "I saw that smile… what's so funny?"

Of course, this only made her smile harder. "You are. You're so cute when you're falling asleep," she told him.

"I'm not falling asleep, for your information," he informed her, his eyes still barely half way open.

"Oh no? Because it looks like you are," she told him quietly, keeping her voice low and soothing to try to facilitate the process.

"I'd sleep better curled up next to you," he told her. She could only assume that the fact that he was already half asleep had something to do with that comment, because as sweet as he was, that was even over the top for _him_. She bit her lip as a wave of emotion moved over her.

"I would, too," she cooed sympathetically, "but unfortunately, you're not going to be curling up anywhere for a while," she told him, then tried not to laugh out loud at the face he made as he pretended to pout.

"Don't remind me," he said, feigning grumpiness.

"Ssshhh, hey, that's what happens when you go and get yourself blown up," she told him soothingly. "Let's focus on the part where you _didn't die_ , okay?" She felt a shiver run through her at just the memory of how scared she had been that day. "But you were lucky, because you'll be curling up again in the not too distant future… just not today, and… probably not next week, either."

"I _know_ ," he sighed dramatically. Then, leaning against her hand, which was still on his cheek, he smiled.

"What?" she asked, surprised that he was still talking, since his eyes were now almost completely closed.

"I'm glad you didn't leave the party, Jane," he whispered, his voice beginning to trail off.

"And I'm glad you stopped me," she told him sincerely. At the time, she had wanted nothing more than to escape, she remembered. Now, she couldn't imagine what her life would be like if she had. There was so much that would never have happened.

"I'm glad you came with me to Clearfield," he said, even more quietly.

"I'm glad we didn't freeze to death on the way," she said with a smile.

"I'm glad…" he started, but trailed off, and it was clear to Jane that he'd simply fallen asleep in the middle of his sentence. She couldn't help but notice that he had the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

"I'm glad, too," she whispered, and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead, smoothing over the skin where she'd just kissed him with the fingertips on her right hand. Her fingers moved carefully into his hair, suddenly unable to resist. He kept it clipped short, but she discovered that it was much softer than it looked. He way lying back on a pillow, so she decided she'd have to save a more thorough investigation for another time. Besides, despite how much she didn't want to pull her hand away from him, she really didn't want to wake him up.

There was something so peaceful about watching him fall asleep, and even though she was sitting up, she couldn't hold in her own yawn as she felt her eyes growing heavy as well. It was completely unlike her – she was the one who usually fought sleep with everything inside her.

Leaving her left hand pressed against his cheek, she anchored herself against her right elbow, her cheek against her hand, her arm propped up on the pillow behind her, and let her eyes fall closed as well, surprised that she wasn't fighting sleep, for once.

 _Not with Kurt around,_ she thought to herself. _He's brought out a lot of changes in you. Just like you have in him. You're good for each other._

As her eyes began to close, she mulled over the idea that the two of them were good for each other. She knew that she was happier around him, but the idea that _she_ brought out good in _him_ , too, was something she honestly hadn't considered.

 _Face it,_ the voice in her head told her, _you_ _ **are**_ _good for each other. You keep him from running back to work when he's clearly not ready, and he makes sure you don't accidentally starve yourself. And that's just one example. What it comes down to is you both care about each other more than you care about yourselves. Which in the long term, you need to work on, but for now, it works._

That was when she had to admit to herself that the voice in her head might be onto something. After all, she would certainly have taken a bullet for Kurt if it meant that he was safe, and even though she found the idea irrational and frustrating, she knew that for some reason, he would have done the same for her. She'd always tried to dismiss the fact that he would put himself in danger for her, chalking it up to what he would do for anyone on his team. And while yes, he would do almost anything for those people who were like family to him, she was only now starting to admit that he would go farther, sacrifice more, or put himself in more danger for her than for anyone else – no matter whether she wanted him to or not.

The next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes to find him looking up at her fondly. It took her a few seconds for her to remember exactly where they were and what was going on, but when she did, she also remembered how adorable he'd been when he was talking to her as he was falling asleep, and the realization she'd had just before her eyes had closed _._

"What're you smiling at?" he asked her.

"You, of course," she replied. Then, curious how long she'd been asleep, she asked, "What time is it?"

"No idea," he replied, "I'm the one who can't turn on my side, remember?"

"Right… sorry," she replied, sitting up straight and squinting to see the clock across the room. "4:16. _Wow_. I slept for a long time…" She looked back down at him, trying to focus on him _without_ getting lost in his eyes – which was not easy. "How long have you been awake? If you had to _guess_ …"

When he shrugged, she was surprised that she could feel the motion. One again, it made her happy even though she couldn't explain why. Probably something about being close enough to him to that she could feel a movement that she normally wouldn't. It made sense that she could feel it though, since his shoulders were on her lap.

"Not too long," he said. "A few minutes… or maybe twenty." She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head.

"So… in other words, you have no idea, but probably more than less," she told him.

"Pretty much," he said agreeably. "I was just enjoying watching you sleep."

"Some people might find that creepy, you know," she joked.

"Do _you?_ " he asked her, raising his eyebrows.

She pretended to think about it for a minute, at which _he_ pretended that he was offended. Then, grinning back at him, she said, "I definitely don't think you're creepy. Actually… the opposite. I _like_ knowing that you're watching out for me."

" _Always_ ," he sincerely. "Even though you are better able to look out for yourself that anyone I've ever known, that won't stop me."

What could she say to that? She knew that she wasn't allowed to say that she didn't deserve him, even though she couldn't figure out how she _could_ , so she just smiled back at him and tried to enjoy the feeling that was, despite making numerous appearances in the past week, still so unfamiliar to her: happiness. Suddenly she wished that he wasn't lying in her lap, as much as she did like it, because it forced them to keep more distance between them than she wanted just then.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Kurt began pushing himself slowly to sit up, steadying himself with his arms out on the sides of him, pressing into the couch cushions. "You going somewhere?" she asked jokingly, slightly unsettled by the fact that he'd began sitting up almost as soon as she'd had the thought that she wished he wasn't on her lap. "You don't have to get up, you know…"

 _Did I somehow make him think I didn't like him lying there?_ she wondered. She hoped not, because she _did_ like it…

"Just thought I'd stand up and stretch," he said, sitting for only a second with his feet on the floor before he pushed himself up the rest of the way. He was a little surprised that she didn't move from where she was sitting, and he decided she might be even more overwhelmed than he'd thought. When she just sat and looked up at him, still feeling both confused over the fact that he'd seemed to hear her thoughts and also uncomfortable because of the unfamiliar happiness she felt, he held out his hand to her, to signal to her to stand up.

She didn't actually let him pull her up, not wanting to end up pulling too hard and hurting him, but she took his signal and, while holding his hand, stood up on her own. As soon as she was upright, she felt him tugging on her hand, pulling her gently toward him. In less than two steps, she was directly in front of him, and his arms were wrapping around her lower back securely. Raising her arms until they were around his neck, she put her forehead down against his chest, over his heart. She took a deep breath, but when she exhaled, to her surprise, it was shaky.

 _What's wrong with me?_ she wondered.

 _Nothing,_ the voice in her head assured her calmly. _Why can you recognize this feeling in Kurt, but not in yourself, even though it's not the first time you've had it?_

For a few seconds, she couldn't think what in the world the voice was talking about. _What does this have to do with Kurt?_ she asked herself in confusion, just before he broke the silence.

"You just looked like you needed someone to hold onto you," he said without prompting, wondering if he was right.

"Sorry," she started, looking up at him sheepishly. Then, suddenly, her face changed. "I just… wait… what?"

"So," he replied, beginning to understand, "you told me earlier I don't have to explain that feeling to _you_ … But I don't know if you recognize it in _yourself_ ," he told her, shaking his head with a smile. She just continued to look at him, still not understanding. Chuckling at her, he murmured, "Just lean forward and relax. Don't worry about it." She did as instructed, feeling him pull her tighter into the hug that she had wanted – _needed_ , even… but how had _he_ known that she needed it? That was the question. She just stood there in awe.

"How do you do it?" she asked without raising her head from where it leaned against him. "I swear sometimes you read my mind."

"I told you," he said simply, "I know you."

"Better than I do, apparently," she murmured.

"I'll just have to help you get better acquainted with the Jane that _I_ know," he said, resting his chin on top of her head. "She is seriously amazing." When he felt her stiffen, he added, "She doesn't take compliments very well, but we're working on that."

Chuckling against her will, she relaxed again. "Haha," she replied.

"I do have my work cut out for me, don't I?" he asked her.

Since she couldn't playfully punch him, she settled for shaking her head against him and leaning into him just a little harder. "Very funny," she mumbled.

"Why, thank you," he replied with a grin, knowing full well that she was being sarcastic, then kissing the top of her head.

She just shook her head at him, as amused as ever. Everything that had happened, looking back… it all seemed impossible. And yet, when she looked back on the past week, so could see it all unfolding again like a movie in her mind. Somehow, it was _real_. The thought made her smile and snuggle a little closer to him. This new reality of hers was too good to be true, but since it _was_ true, she was going to hold onto it tightly.

Once again, she felt him kiss the top of her head. Breathing in, then out again slowly, she committed that moment to memory.


	48. Happy New Year

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :) There's more about some song lyrics that I also don't own in the note at the end of this chapter because, as Rich Dotcom would say, "No spoilers, please!"**_

 _A/N: Okay, this_ _ **is**_ _the last chapter. To soften the blow, it's by the longest chapter I think I've ever posted on any fic I've written. I probably should have split it in half, but… no. It needed to be one continuous entity. Thank you all so much for coming along on this little journey with me, and for the love you've given this story. I can't believe it took until April to get through December. :) I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it._

As the afternoon wore on, Jane had been a little quieter than usual, a little more lost in thought. Kurt had a suspicion that he knew the reason, and he figured that if she didn't say anything about what was bothering her by seven o'clock, and still didn't seem more like herself, he'd bring it up. After all, she had every right to process things in her head. He just didn't want her to spend too long dwelling on them, which she had a tendency to do. Just another thing they had in common, he supposed.

Even though they were expecting their guests at eight o'clock, they'd warmed up a vegetable and beef stir fry – yet another thing that had been left in the refrigerator for them – around six. Kurt was already getting hungry, and Jane definitely needed to eat at least a little, so why not? They'd assumed that if the others brought over _more_ food – almost a given, really, at this point – it would probably be more like snacks. Besides, even though they weren't bored by any stretch of the imagination, having dinner was something to do, a familiar, soothing routine. Their lives weren't especially normal, but this was at least one normal thing that they could do.

After dinner, Jane was standing at the counter making coffee while Kurt sat at the dining room table, as she had _insisted_ that he should, watching her. As she waited for the machine to finish brewing, she stared absently into mid-air, turned half way towards Kurt so that he saw her profile, including the frown on her face. The noise of the coffee machine brought her back to reality, and she turned her back to him to finish the task she'd given herself. Besides the fact that she liked coffee, it seemed like a good idea since they were planning to stay up so late after having gotten into the unfamiliar habit of going to bed at a reasonable hour. However, she wondered if the caffeine would irritate her stomach, which was feeling a little unsettled at the moment already.

Of course, she knew that Kurt had noticed the difference in her. Surprisingly, he hadn't said anything about it yet, but she had a feeling that he was simply just biding his time. He wasn't one to let it go completely when something was bothering her, but it _was_ very much like him to choose his timing carefully before bringing it up.

As for what was bothering her, well, she knew it was silly. She was looking forward to that evening – or she _had_ been, anyway – and at the same time… she was feeling increasingly stressed. She and Kurt had spent so much time on their own, or at most, with Sarah and Sawyer, over the past eight days, the thought of the scrutiny of the team was… _unsettling_ was the best word for it, because that was definitely how she felt.

She knew that she shouldn't worry about it, because they had all been amazingly kind to her only a few days ago at the hospital, after Kurt had been injured and she'd been a blubbering mess. Even before that, Jane hadn't felt friction on Wednesday morning, the one day they'd been in both the office and in the field with the team, before the explosion. Even at the holiday party the week before, things had felt pretty much okay by the end…

Somehow, however, it was only the skepticism and mistrust that she was imagining from them just then, for whatever reason. The way they'd treated her with such reservations both when she'd first appeared in their lives after Times Square, and then again after she'd "come back" from the CIA. For whatever reason, those were the parts that were brain was choosing to remember, despite the fact that she _knew_ that those were what she should be dwelling on, and that she shouldn't.

While her first time at the FBI – back at _the beginning_ – had been scarier, when she had had no idea who she was, the second time she'd "ended up" there (which somehow sounded better than the way it had actually happened – that they'd brought her in like a criminal… though she supposed that she _was_ a criminal…) had been especially bad. That time she had _known_ who she was and what she'd done. She'd been as angry and felt as betrayed as they had, while simultaneously feeling guilty for her own actions – it was a horrible combination.

Even though things had improved since then, to the point that they had all been able to at least speak civilly to each other most of the time even before the party, she still hadn't felt like part of the team. She hadn't been included in anything they did, and she had assumed that she never would be again. And as much as that hurt, all she kept repeating to herself was that it was her own fault. After all, no one had done any of this _to_ her. No, she had literally done it all to herself. _Again_.

That night at the party, she'd gotten the feeling that while Patterson had acted happy to see her when she'd arrived, had things not gone the way they had with Kurt, she could have slipped out and none of them would have even noticed. Or at least, that was what her head kept telling her.

To make a long story short, this gathering had sounded like a great idea yesterday, and even as recently as a few hours ago, even, but this afternoon she was a ball of anxiety. The closer the time got, the more and more anxious she became – even though _logically_ , she knew that she shouldn't be.

She walked back over to the table with their coffees, but Kurt stood up slowly as she approached, signaling her to follow him as he walked toward the couch. She was glad he was headed that way, because at least if they sat on the couch, she could sit closer to him. Just then she needed the reassurance that even just sitting closer to him would provide. Touch, after all, had always been soothing between them.

They sat down close together, Kurt leaning back against the back pillow and Jane perched rigidly on the edge beside him, both of them sipping from their coffee. She knew that he was watching her, because she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. Finally, sighing heavily, she put down her coffee on the table in front of her and leaned back slowly, finding his left arm extended behind her, so that it crossed down her back diagonally with his hand at her waist when she leaned back, and he didn't attempt to remove it. She couldn't relax, however, though she tried, and she simply sat and looked down at her lap, unable to bring herself to look at him.

Glancing across the room at the clock, Kurt checked the time. 6:55 pm. _Close enough_ , he thought, unable to watch her brood over her thoughts any longer.

The arm that was behind her pulled her closer to him. "Come on, talk to me," he told her, not even bothering to ask if something was wrong. Surely she already knew that he could tell, after all. "What part of it is making you anxious?"

Smiling slightly at the fact that, of course, he knew exactly what was bothering her, she shook her head but didn't look up. "It's silly," she started slowly in a soft voice, realizing that talking about it didn't seem so daunting when she didn't need to explain what she was talking about. "They were really nice to me at the hospital. Even at work on Wednesday and the party last week, things seemed okay… But I can't help feeling like…" She shook her head in frustration and finally looked up at him, her face reflecting the tension she obviously felt.

Kurt smiled knowingly, feeling slightly relieved that he _had_ been right about what was bothering her, and that it wasn't something more serious. In a soothing voice, he began trying to get through to her. "It makes sense, Jane. After all, until nine days ago, you and I weren't even on great terms, and we had always been the ones who had…" He paused there. They'd never talked about it, because they'd never needed to. They'd both just _known_. "…a special connection. At least…" He looked at her tentatively and added, "I _think_ so…"

When she smiled slightly, looking back at her lap and nodding, he went on. "Things between us had gotten… better slowly, yes, but they were still strained before that night at the party. Even _after_ the party, after we talked, it still felt a little awkward… nothing like it does now. It's hard to remember that that was only last week, because we've had so much time since then to talk, and to work through things. It's been kind of… _intense_ … And yes, you and I have made up for a lot of lost time, but you haven't had that kind of time… to normalize things, I mean… with them. So it makes sense that you feel anxious. But it's going to be okay."

He smiled at her, and saw her smile tentatively, still looking down, before dropping her head against his shoulder. "With the rest of the team, you're not in the same place. You're farther back than you and I are. Besides that, the relationship is _obviously_ different. Think how you felt about me when I stopped you in the stairwell. Yes, there was more baggage, so maybe it was more intense, but it's the same idea. I can't defend their actions any more than I can defend my own. But you and I both know that they're good people. They do care about you, we've all just… it wasn't as hard for us as for you, but no one has had it _easy_ in this."

She nodded, whispering, "I know. And I have no right to judge, so I—"

But he cut her off before she could start to put all the blame on herself, like she always seemed to do. "What happened to you hasn't been fair. You have a right to feel however you feel. Just… remember that they might be just as anxious as you, okay? Or maybe not as much, but… just…" He shook his head, feeling like he wasn't doing too well in the pep talk department. "It's going to work out. We're going to laugh and have fun and count down and then kiss at midnight, so that _that_ is the first thing that happens to either of us in the new year. And they can tease us all they want, because you know they're just jealous… Right?"

His pep talk was far from perfect, but in a way that _made_ it perfect. He clearly didn't really know the best way to go about this conversation, and yet he was trying his best. That alone was already making her feel better. He _always_ managed to make her feel better.

Sitting up for a second to take another sip of her coffee, she leaned back to find that Kurt's arm once again behind her. This time, however, since he couldn't raise his arm far enough to rest it on her shoulders, he had bent it at the elbow so that his forearm went up the middle of her back, bringing his fingertips to rest on the oil derrick tattoo peeking up from the neckline of her shirt on her upper back. Leaning his head back slightly to look at the lines of the tattoo, he ghosted his fingertips over the ink slowly, again and again.

She'd forgotten how much she liked that sensation since he'd done it the other day. Closing her eyes, she couldn't help but smile. "Is this you trying to get me to relax?" she asked, finding herself suddenly exhaling the stress she'd been feeling until just a minute ago.

"Is it working?" he asked. Reaching his right hand over in her direction, slowly so that he didn't accidentally twist his body toward her, he laid his right hand over hers, there on her right leg, closing his fingers securely around it.

"What do you think?" she asked, her face now completely relaxed and her eyes still closed.

He wished that he could sit closer to her, the way they had the whole time in Clearfield. Once again, it was frustrating to have so many limitations on his movement, especially when it kept him from getting closer to her. It was hard to keep things in perspective, and remember that it all could have been so much worse, even though he _knew_ it was true.

"I think," he said slowly, "that I'm really tired of not being able to turn the way I want to."

Opening her eyes to look at him sympathetically, she saw the glint in his eyes. "Which way do you _want_ to turn?" she asked him. She knew what he was trying to say, she just couldn't resist teasing him. It was too much fun.

Glad to see that Jane was suddenly acting more like herself, he felt the knot of frustration inside him ease slightly. After all, she had a relaxing effect on him, as well. Instead of teasing her back, however, he simple shrugged and said, "Toward whichever side you're on."

Her face broke into a wide grin then, and her head dropped forward for a second before she turned to look back at him over her shoulder at him, shaking her head.

"Sweet, but very corny," she told him teasingly. In her eyes, however, he could see raw emotion just below the surface. He loved that about her.

"Maybe so," he countered, "but it's the truth."

Despite how much she was enjoying the feeling of his fingers at the base of her neck, she had an idea about how to ease his frustration at not being able to turn towards her. Reluctantly, she moved her right hand out from under his and stood up. He watched her curiously, and before he had a chance to wonder too much, she turned around and stood in front of him in the small space between the coffee table and his knees. She hesitated for a second, knowing exactly what she was thinking of doing and how it _could_ come across… and then she reminded herself that of all the people in the world who would take something she did the wrong way, Kurt would be last on that list. No, he wouldn't be on the list at all, because he always just seemed to _know_. He always just seemed to 'get' her. Before last Friday, and the party, things would have been very, very different – obviously – but now… right now she knew that he would understand what she was doing.

He'd been watching her intently, not saying anything, seeming content to just wait and see whatever it was she was going to do. Seeing her hesitate as she stood in front of him, he watched a range of emotions flash across her face in only a few seconds, and he was fascinated. And then just as suddenly as her hesitation had come, it was gone.

There'd been a few inches between his knees when she'd stood up, and she nudged one of her legs into that space, easily moving both his legs to the sides with hers and stepping towards him until both her legs were against the edge of the couch.

He now he thought he understood the look that had come across her face. There was a degree of intimacy in that gesture that they had so far flirted with only briefly, when he'd done almost the same thing, stepping in front of her when she sat on the counter. It made perfect sense to him that she was doing what she was doing, since they'd pretty much identified every angle from which they could get closer to each other over the past few days. He realized that she knew that he was frustrated with not being able to turn towards her, and she wanted to take his mind off of what he couldn't do, getting closer to him in the process. Both of them liked _that_. Once again, he was in awe at how intuitive and how selfless she was – not, of course, that she wouldn't also get something out of the deal in this case, of course.

Pushing himself slowly back against the couch pillow behind him as far as he could, he made as much space in front of him as he could, understanding now what she was doing. She smiled appreciatively, a hint of awkwardness in her smile that just made the entire thing more endearing, as far as he was concerned. The look that passed between them made it clear that they both know exactly what she was doing, and her smile widened in reply to the silent communication. Slowly and of course, very carefully, given the space constraints in front of her, she leaned her right knee down on the edge of the couch, followed by her left knee, both braced hard against the couch in the space between his legs. Leaning forward very slowly so that she didn't lose her balance, she grasped the edge of the couch behind him, behind the pillow that he was leaned against.

"I've got you," he said under his breath, putting his hands on her waist to help her keep her balance. She looked down at him, smiling gratefully, gradually relaxing as she realized that maybe she wasn't going to fall, after all. Not that she would have minded falling on _him,_ of course, except that that would have hurt him, possibly badly. Trying to keep her balance, she shifted slightly, sitting down on her knees so that her face came down more into line with his.

He wanted to kiss her as soon as she was in front of him – _of course_ he did. After all, he was in love with her, and she was gorgeous, and what she was doing was more than a little bit tempting – but even more than he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to look into her eyes. That was the thing about Jane that he'd never felt for anyone else he'd dated – he didn't _just_ want to kiss her, or do anything else that that would lead to. No, he also wanted to talk to her, he wanted to understand her, and he wanted to protect her, _all of it_ , and all of these impulses were about a thousand times stronger than he'd felt them for anyone else. Everything about her fascinated him, and it was a battle inside him between wanting to pull her as close to him as he could and wanting keep her just far enough away so that he could see her. This feeling had been growing for a while, slowly enough that he realized that he had missed it for a long time, but over the past week it had intensified.

"Yes, you do," she said, beaming. "Sorry if this is a little, uh… well, I mean, the options are limited… and I…" Now she was blushing, which he found hilarious. She hadn't blushed when she'd lowered herself down in front of him, which could be taken more than a little suggestively… No, she blushed a deep pink now that she was already there. That was Jane – unlike anyone else and full of surprises.

"Do _not_ be sorry for this," he said, arching his eyebrows at her suggestively, then dropping them and grinning at her with her favorite innocent grin. Shaking his head at her and chuckling, he felt a little bit lightheaded. There was something about her, about the two of them, that made him just… _Giddy_ was the only word for it, despite the fact that he'd never have thought he would use that word to describe himself. And yet, that was how he felt just then.

Thinking back to just a few minutes before, his face creased in concern. "Hey, are _you_ okay? I mean, about tonight…" He carefully removed one of his hands from her waist and brought it up to her face, then pushed a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, replacing his hand on her waist slowly and carefully.

The expression on her face immediately softened, and she lowered her forehead against his. "I'm okay," she said, exhaling slowly. Then, in a steadier voice, she added, "How could I not be? I have _you_."

"Now who's being cheesy?" he asked her, but his tone was warm and soothing, and she just smiled.

"Maybe so," she told him with a shrug. "But it's the truth." Smiling, because she'd echoed his words from not that long ago, she leaned back to look at him. Then, laughing softly to herself, she added, "I told you, they're going to think we're disgustingly cute, just like Sarah did."

"We've gotten _way_ worse since we were in Clearfield, I think," he said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, sometime around the time you almost died," she chided him.

"I'm sorry," he said seriously, despite the fact that it had, of course, been completely out of his control, and she shook her head at him, smiling fondly that he was _apologizing_ for almost dying. Then suddenly, once again, she felt a sharp pain in her heart as she remembered that night in the hospital.

 _But he didn't die. He's right there,_ the voice in her head told her as she looked into his eyes, trying to breathe normally after suddenly realizing that she was holding her breath against the pain.

Exhaling slowly, she felt calm slowly return, and with a shrug, her voice was reduced to a whisper. "Well, besides the fact that it _wasn't your fault_ ," she began with a grin. Her face grew more serious then, and she continued. "I guess it's like everything else we've been through… it brought us here. So… don't be sorry."

"That's what I like to hear," he said, sincerely happy to hear those words from her. He knew that she still had a long way to go towards making peace with her past, of course. They both did. But she'd come a long way already, and this was the proof.

"You like to hear what? Don't be sorry?" she asked him mischievously. "Don't get too used to _that_."

When she leaned her face towards his, barely able to contain the teasing smile on her face, he just shook his head at her. "Very funny, but _no_. The part before that. That it brought us here."

"Well, it did," she said with a shrug. Leaning even closer to him, she stopped just short of their lips making contact and asked, to his surprise, "What time is it?" After all, this time she was the one facing away from the clock.

Confused by the question, he made a face at her. "Why do you ask _that_?" he asked, their lips practically brushing together.

"Because I want to know how long we have until the rest of the team gets here," she said with a grin, "so I can allow five minutes to not look too disheveled. Because I know what I want to do with the _rest_ of the time."

Catching on to what she was saying, he looked across the room at the clock. "It's 7:42," he told her, looking into her eyes.

"So, thirteen minutes. Got it," she replied breathlessly.

Then in the split second just before she closed the distance between them, he asked, "And what if they're more than five minutes early?"

"They they'll just have to _wait_ ," she growled, leaning forward the last fraction of an inch. With her lips already against his, she added, "Because no one's coming in here in the next thirteen minutes."

This kiss felt different to him, because he was smiling so hard when he leaned into it. Certainly not _bad_ different. Actually, he really liked the feeling. _Good thing Jane makes you smile so much, then_ , the voice in his head observed before quieting down and leaving him alone.

At eight o'clock exactly, Patterson knocked on Weller's door. She and Zapata had been back and forth about the details extensively, but they'd made sure to leave Weller and Jane alone. After all, if they _really_ needed something, they'd have let one of them know… at least the two women hoped so. But the chances of Weller and Jane wanting anyone else around over those few days were slim to none, and the rest of them knew it. Having seen Jane at the hospital, it had been clear to the others that not only had the two of them picked up where they'd been before everything had fallen apart between them, but they seemed to have gone on quickly from there.

Kurt went to the door when he heard the first knock, at exactly eight o'clock. Jane had just ducked into the bathroom, and when he opened the door and saw Patterson, he noticed her eyes dart around, past him into the apartment. He smiled at the blonde, who was clearly curious to know how things were going between them, knowing that she would find out very soon without even having to ask.

"Hey, Patterson, come on in," he said, stepping back for her to enter.

"Hey, Weller. How are you?" she asked as she walked past him with a concerned smile. From the look on her face he was pretty sure that she wanted to hug him, but it appeared that she had decided at the last second not to.

"Still pretty sore, but doing better," he said. "It's going to be a few weeks of taking it slow, but I'm hoping to be back in the office by—" Looking up, he saw that Jane had silently appeared out of nowhere, and was looking at him with a smirk, waiting for the end of that sentence. "—next Friday at the _earliest,_ and strictly in the office. No field work for a while," he finished, earning her nod of approval.

"You were almost busted for a second there," Jane told him with a grin, then smiling at their new arrival. "Hi, Patterson," she said to the blonde, projecting a calm that she didn't feel.

"Jane!" Patterson exclaimed, and this time Patterson didn't resist the urge to hug, just as she hadn't bothered to at the party. Of all the people she knew, Jane was probably the one who needed hugs the most, even if she might not know it. Kurt watched Jane carefully, knowing how much better she would feel with even just a friendly greeting from Patterson. He was glad that Patterson, the most sensitive of their three guests, had been the first to arrive, and he hoped that Jane would feel more at ease now.

When the hug between the two women was complete, Kurt added, in Jane's direction, "There was nothing for me to be busted about, by the way. I wasn't going to say anything else."

"Good to know," Jane said with a smile.

"For your information, I've suddenly discovered that I kind of like playing hooky from work," he said, looking directly into Jane's eyes.

Patterson took a step back, watching the two in fascination. Ever since the party, it was as though every time she saw them, things had changed dramatically. They seemed to be even closer now than when she'd seen them on Wednesday morning, before the explosion. Of course, that day they'd been at work, and had undoubtedly been trying to keep a more professional distance and demeanor because of it. She was dying to ask questions, of one or both of them, but for the time being she held them in, confident that some of them would be answered if she just waited and observed.

Jane was standing closer to Patterson than to Kurt, and she couldn't help but feel like he was a thousand miles away. After all, they hadn't spent a whole lot of time more than a few feet away from each other unless there was a reason that they _had_ to over the past few days – the past week, even – so she felt the distance acutely, especially with Patterson there. Not that Patterson's presence meant that she couldn't go near him. She'd just forgotten how different it was when they weren't by themselves.

The introduction of a third person into the apartment had created an interesting new dynamic, and since they were about to get two more, whenever Reade and Zapata showed up, Kurt was glad that it had been Patterson, the least "threatening" of the three, who had arrived first. Not that any of them were threatening, but despite the blonde's enthusiastic greeting to Jane, he was watching Jane start to look a little too 'deer in headlights' for his taste. He began moving in her direction as they talked, hoping to calm her down before their other guests arrived, and before she got stuck back inside her own head.

Patterson, ever the scientist with an eye for observation, watched with interest as Kurt nonchalantly moved to Jane's side, sliding his arm around her waist as he stood just slightly behind her. She hadn't noticed that Jane looked tense before that, but she seemed to relax as soon as she realized that Kurt was there, glancing at him with what appeared to be a small, grateful smile.

 _I wonder if she's nervous,_ Patterson thought, a little bit surprised. _But nervous because of_ _ **us**_ _?_ Realizing that just maybe she was, since the history between the rest of the team and Jane hadn't been as successfully dealt with as that between Jane and Weller. She concluded that that could very well be the problem, and made a mental note to pull Jane aside at some point and make sure the air was clear between the two of them, at least.

Despite the fact that Patterson had been nothing but friendly, and that she'd only been there for a few minutes, Jane could feel her own stress level rising. She had already tried reminding herself that there was no danger, and that if anyone so much as looked at her the wrong way, Kurt would probably have pulled them into another room to deal with them, but it hadn't worked so far. There was no getting around it – she was nervous. When she'd felt Kurt's arm around her waist, therefore, she'd breathed a sigh of relief, feeling herself relaxing against him behind her.

When another knock on the door sounded before any of them could make further conversation, Kurt leaned forward slightly to kiss Jane quickly on the back of the head, a gesture of "it's okay, don't panic," and then let his arm fall from her waist, only to capture her hand in his loosely and bring her along to the door with him.

 _These two are easily the cutest thing I've ever seen_ , thought Patterson as she followed behind them back towards the door. Of course, she'd barely seen anything yet.

Outside the door, they found Zapata and Reade, holding several large shopping bags with reinforced handles. "Hey, guys. Whoa, what's all this?" Kurt asked in greeting. There were smiles and greetings all around, between Patterson, Jane, Reade and Zapata as the two new guests came into the entry way, the three others stepping back to make room. Jane felt herself tugged back towards Kurt, which she didn't mind at all, as the room suddenly came alive with conversation.

"Well, Patterson was in charge of shopping for food on Thursday," Zapata replied, "so Reade and I got to handle party snacks. It was only fair."

"Tough job, man, but someone had to do it," added Reade with a grin. Clearly he'd enjoyed his role in _this_ part of the plan.

"Oh yeah?" Kurt asked, attempting to look into the top of one of the bags to peer at the contents. "Got anything good?"

"As if you've been starved the past few days?" Jane asked teasingly. "I feel like we've been eating constantly." She realized too late that she may be inviting a comment about her eating habits, and immediately tensed, clamping her mouth shut.

Kurt, of course, knew what she was talking about. Since they'd done so little over the past few days besides hang out together, the main thing that had marked the passage of time had been their meals. Even if he'd wanted to make a teasing reply to her, which he wouldn't have done on such a sensitive subject, he never would have done so in front of the others, and he noticed immediately when she tensed up.

Squeezing her hand, he replied to the group, "Oh, we've definitely eaten well the past few days, thanks to you guys," and felt her relax once again, leaning against him slightly.

"Well even so, we do, in fact, have something good," Reade replied to Kurt's question as they walked toward the kitchen, setting the shopping bags down on the counter. "Everything _I_ picked is good. I tried to talk Zapata out of a few of the questionable choices she wanted to make, but you know how she is…"

Her hands now free, Zapata slapped him on the arm with the back of her hand. "Hey! I don't make questionable choices. You didn't even know what they _were!_ " she exclaimed, pretending to be offended. Reade backed away several steps, his hands in the air in front of him, laughing.

"Easy, Zapata. I'm sorry, I'm not as cultured and obviously classy as you," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes with a grin on his face.

"Damn right," she retorted under her breath, unable to control her laughter anymore.

All three new arrivals had begun to shed their coats, and Jane was quick to collect them, giving Kurt the evil eye when he tried to take them from her. "Not even _coats_?" he asked in exasperation as she walked toward the guest room with them to lay them on the unused bed in there.

"Go have a seat, everyone," Jane called, "Kurt especially, since you're supposed to be _resting_." She saw him roll his eyes at her as she walked into the other room, but she also saw the smile on his face that said that he liked that she was still taking care of him, even with everyone around. She ignored the grins from the rest of the team at their exchange, knowing the two of them were being scrutinized, but telling herself that her team was doing it with love. Once inside the guest room, however she took several deep breaths for good measure.

In the minute that Jane was out of the room, Kurt felt their questioning stares on him, but he said nothing, just smiled. Instead, walking to sit down in one of the dining room chairs as he'd been instructed, along with Reade, who'd followed him to the table, Kurt glanced toward the door through which Jane had disappeared. Patterson and Zapata were still standing at the kitchen counter, overlooking the dining room, and they elbowed each other, watching their boss looking for Jane and not even realizing it. The man was clearly in love – which, of course, they'd already known, but it was fun to see the evidence. In all the time they'd known him, they'd never seen anything like the way he acted with Jane, and it was even more blatant now that _he_ had finally realized how he felt about her.

Of course, they'd known that he was in love with her a long time ago, before so many different tragedies, but this was different. And it could have had something to do with the fact that this was his home, and they weren't at work, but, unlike the time Zapata had confronted him about his feelings for Jane in the backwoods of Michigan, this time he knew exactly how he felt about her. It had only taken a few seconds of seeing them together for this to be pretty clear.

The two women began unpacking the food, talking quietly while they did so and taking plates out of the cupboards to use as serving dishes, warming up several of them as necessary and basically lining the counter with food. Jane had slipped into the room behind them to see if they needed help, but stood behind them, watching, not wanting to interrupt and just generally feeling unnecessary, and unsure of whether to break into their conversation. When they saw her there, after only a few seconds, they both took a step back and made space between them, immediately pulling her into their light banter as they got the food ready.

Jane's eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of her head at the sight of all the food – all snacks – that Zapata and Reade had brought. There were mini-quiches, mozzarella sticks, egg rolls, plates of fruits and bite sized vegetable pieces, and one that Jane didn't recognize. "Lobster nachos," Zapata said when she saw Jane eyeing it curiously. Jane was fairly sure that there was no way they were _ever_ going to eat it all. She turned around to take out small plates for everyone to use with all the snacks that were now set out across the bar style counter, facing the dining room, needing to look away from all that food, just for a second. Setting the stack of plates at one end of the counter, she looked over at Kurt. He was seated, as she had requested, and was in the midst of talking to Reade beside him. Once again, she felt a pang at the fact that at least in her mind, he was _so_ far away, even though she was looking right at him from across the room.

Things were settling down in the kitchen now that the food was mostly all on serving plates, and Zapata was pulling out the contents of the second, reinforced, shopping bag – which Jane could now see was beer. Zapata took three, then did a round through the dining room, handing them to Reade and Patterson and then pretending she was going to hand one to Kurt, but pulling it back at the last second.

"Oh! Sorry boss, I don't think so," she said. "Pain meds and alcohol are a no no."

Kurt made a frustrated face, shaking his head in disappointment at Zapata before looking over at Jane, who was the only one still in the kitchen. Speaking of those drugs that he so wanted to wean himself off of, but was taking grudgingly thanks to Jane, it was about time for another dose, and Zapata had just provided a good reminder. Jane filled a glass three quarters of the way full with water and added a few ice cubes, then shook one of his pills into her hand, walking around the counter to set the glass on the table in front of him. She held her hand over his until his palm was open, then released her fingers only slowly to let the pill fall into his hand, letting them drag more slowly than necessary out across his palm and looking at him apologetically for giving him medication instead of beer, as the rest of the team made comments that ranged from actual sympathy to teasing.

Not knowing what else to do since there were no more chairs at the table, and having completed the task that she'd walked into the room to do, Jane began to walk back to the kitchen. Since there were only four chairs, remaining there beside the others would only serve to make it more obvious that there wasn't one for her. No one needed to fuss over her. In fact, she actively wanted to avoid having anyone do so. Even though she knew that it was silly, that it didn't matter if she had a chair or not, and that surely she could have gotten _herself_ a chair ( _Is there another chair anywhere in this apartment?_ She couldn't remember just then), her heart hammered in her chest. Logic apparently was playing no part in her behavior.

"Oh! Jane! Let me grab you a beer," Zapata cried, already halfway out of her seat before Jane had a chance to react.

"What? Oh, no, you don't have to do that, Zapata. I'm fine, I don't really—" Jane fumbled with words awkwardly, trying to get Zapata to stop and sit back down. She didn't need to go to any trouble for her. After all, Jane could have easily gotten it herself. And besides, really, it wasn't a big deal. The last time the team had gone out for a drink, they hadn't even bothered to invite her. For some reason, that was what the sight of beer bottles was reminding her of just then.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Kurt's voice, cutting through the noise of both her disorganized and increasingly panicky thoughts and the words that were tumbling out of her mouth so desperately and so haphazardly.

"Jane, have a beer. _I'm_ the only one on pain meds here. Everyone else should drink," he called across the room. Her eyes met his, and he saw the nervousness in them.

Knowing that Kurt wasn't fooled for a second, but doing it for the benefit of the rest of the room, she rolled her eyes and tried to smile. With a shrug she acquiesced as Zapata, who had already opened another beer, pressed it into her hand. "Okay, okay, thanks, Zapata," she murmured, putting it down on the counter without taking a drink. Her stomach was more than a little unsteady just then, and the thought of the beer in front of her was actually making her a little nauseous. Or maybe it was just the fact that her stomach felt queasy to the point where it might digest _itself_ because of how anxious she suddenly was in the midst of this gathering in general. She forced herself to smile harder, and pretended that she was looking for something as an excuse to duck her head and look away from the others.

Everyone but Jane now had a plate filled with various foods from the display on the bar, as well as a drink, on the table in front of them. Jane, back in the kitchen, had run out of things to pretend to do, and while the others were talking animatedly in the other room, she knew that at some point, the fact that she was not amongst them would become the focus of the conversation. She was breathing faster, and she just needed a minute to somehow convince herself to calm down. If she'd been able to sit down beside Kurt, that may have done the trick, but seeing as there was no chair… Hoping against hope that she could slip into the bedroom without being noticed, she moved with purpose in that direction, leaving her beer untouched on the counter.

Despite the fact that she closed the door quietly, her exit was noticed immediately. After all, the team was extremely interested in the interaction between the Jane and their boss, and it wasn't as though there were _that_ many people there. Despite the fact that Jane and Kurt hadn't even been near each other in the past few minutes, all you had to do was watch one of them to notice how often they looked back at the other. It happened every few minutes, if not more often.

"Is she okay?" Patterson asked, concerned. "Do you want me to go talk to her?"

Kurt shook his head. He hesitated to comment about Jane to the others, not wanting to betray her confidence, but he was fairly sure he wasn't telling them anything that couldn't be relatively easily deduced when he said quietly, "She's… just a little nervous. It's okay, I got it." As well-meaning as he knew that Patterson, and indeed the rest of the team, was, he also knew that _he_ had the best chance of calming her down.

He stood up slowly, already feeling less achy after having the latest dose of his meds – or maybe that was just psychological. "Hey, Reade, can you grab the chair from the desk in the guest room? I should have thought of that before," he said, pointing to the door across the room before leaving the circle of chairs.

 _Dammit, Weller, of course she panicked,_ he thought to himself. _She doesn't dare to think of herself as part of the groups as it is, and then she was the one left standing. And no, not having a chair isn't the end of the world, but she's more than a little sensitive right now._ He wanted to kick himself for not being more aware of his surroundings.

"Sure, no problem," Reade said, already out of his chair. He'd been ready to surrender his chair to Jane anyway, when she'd darted out of the kitchen.

Kurt opened the door to his bedroom, closing it quietly behind him, and saw Jane standing there, facing away from him, her shoulders heaving slowly up and down. At first he wondered if she was crying. "Hey, you okay?" he asked softly. He hadn't expected her to turn around, but she did, and he saw that she wasn't crying, just breathing harder than usual, nodding determinedly but looking anything _but_ okay. Smiling sympathetically, he took three steps forward and was squarely inside her personal space, his arms wrapping around her and holding on as he felt her begin to relax, her arms moving slowly around the middle of his back as well.

"You're doing great," he told her. He felt her shake her head, since he had pulled her close enough that he couldn't see her and her head was beside his, her temple leaned against his cheek. "You _are,_ " he said, turning his head slightly so that he could kiss her cheek, then lean his own scruffy cheek against it. "Don't overthink it, okay. It's just a few hours of socializing and then, like I told you before, they go home, and _we_ stay right here. Alright?"

He felt her nod against him that time, though she still didn't say anything. Slowly, she was beginning to relax, but she seemed to have gotten herself pretty worked up in that short time, so she still had a ways to go. "Ssshhh, come on," she told her soothingly. "You don't have to take a plate of food. Just sit by me and steal one or two things off of my plate. Not only will it look cute, and you don't have the pressure of finishing _anything_ , okay? Have a beer, or, if you're not up for it, sit with a beer in front of you and pretend to drink it, or drink water. It doesn't matter. No one is here to give you a hard time. You know how they are. We all tease each other because we're family."

She tensed again, and he knew that he'd struck a nerve. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded almost haunted. "I used to be," she said, and he felt his heart break for her.

But Jane needed his reassurance, so he pushed aside any doubts about how he should have done things better that tried to creep into his mind. "You _are_ part of this family, Jane. Family doesn't always mean things are easy, but in the end, we work it out. If anyone knows _that_ , it's the two of us…" He paused, thinking about how very true that was. His father was a murderer and her mother was a terrorist. Perfect examples of how _not_ easy family could be. "None of it has been easy… I know. Least of all things between the two of _us_ , right? But here we are." She tried to smile then, but it came off as more of a grimace, so she just nodded, not trusting her voice just then.

 _No, things have certainly never been easy…_ she thought. _With the exception of maybe the past few days, which have been_ _ **easier**_ _, though still not quite easy… Though, then again, easy would probably scare me…_ She sighed heavily in frustration with herself and tried to focus on just leaning against Kurt. Everything felt better when she just focused on him.

He leaned back slowly so that he could look in her eyes. He was determined to make her understand how serious he was about what he was saying. "They're not here to judge you, Jane. Every single one of us made mistakes this year, and we know that. I think we _all_ just want another chance… To do things right." He didn't often try to speak on behalf of other people, but he knew his team well enough to know that he was speaking the truth. He thought that she must know it, too, deep down… She was probably just afraid to believe it, and he certainly didn't blame her for that. "I know that I do," he added quietly.

He watched as a pained smile flitted across her face, and was concerned to see her eyes looking suspiciously watery. She was staring off somewhere, not meeting his eyes.

"Come back to the party with me," he urged her softly. "Please…"

He felt her shift then, seeming to relax slightly. There was a hint of a smile on her face, and she finally looked back at him. When their eyes met, he saw her smiling genuinely for the first time since he'd come into the bedroom after her. "I'm feeling a little bit of déjà vu," she replied quietly.

Realizing that she was right, he chuckled. The same thing had happened just over a week ago, when he'd sat with her in the stairwell at the office, urging her to come back to the holiday party with him. "Well, if it helps, I think that you were glad you did come back to the party with me _last time_ ," he said with a grin.

Her smile grew across her face then. "I was," she said, feeling calmer, "and I _am_. Very glad." She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his face, and he kissed her directly in the center of it.

"I love you," he told her softly. She breathed in deeply, as if she could inhale his words and keep them more securely somehow. If it had been possible, she would have done just that.

"I love _you_ ," she said insistently, turning her head slightly as he leaned his face against her to kiss her temple. "We should get back to our guests."

"We should," he agreed. "Are you okay?"

"Better now," she replied. When he leaned back far enough to focus on her once again, he saw that she _looked_ better.

"Come and sit by me, alright? I asked Reade to get the desk chair out of the guest room, so we have enough. I want you close to me. Like I said before, you can steal my food and we'll look cute, and make them all roll their eyes at us and want to throw up, all while wishing they could be as adorable as we are. Please?" He looked at her with his puppy dog eyed expression, not looking away.

"How could I _possibly_ say no to that?" she asked, leaning forward once more, this time to kiss him. Quickly, though, because they had guests waiting for them. He let his arms fall reluctantly, but took her right hand in his left, lacing their fingers together and holding on tightly.

"There," he said, "no slipping away now."

"Good," she replied, finally feeling calm again and following him toward the door.

She was afraid that all eyes would be on them as they emerged from the bedroom, but instead, the other three were involved in some sort of heated debate about the futility of making New Year's Resolutions. Zapata was insisting that it was pointless, since "everyone breaks them in a week, anyway." Patterson, ever the optimist, on the other hand, was trying to convince her that it was better to at least _try_ to improve yourself, even if you didn't succeed. The look on Reade's face told them that he was doing his best to stay out of the argument, which was very normal behavior for him when the other two women were arguing.

Kurt sat down in the chair where he'd been before, noticing that Reade had pulled up _his_ chair right beside Kurt's, so that the edges were touching, taking the desk chair for himself a few feet away. Smiling as he watched Jane sit down, a nervous smile on her face, Kurt glanced at Reade and nodded his thanks. Reade returned the nod, glancing at Jane and smiling. There was a lot of glancing and smiling happening at the table in those few seconds, before the discussion resumed. That was when Patterson asked Kurt _his_ opinion about New Year's resolutions.

Jane's chair was as close to Kurt's as it could get, but he still regretted the fact that they weren't on the couch, so that he could reach her more easily. Still, he stretched his arm out as he made a thoughtful face, his arm bent at an angle that allowed his hand to land on Jane's shoulder, his fingers trailing lazily and making shapes on the cotton of her shirt.

"I think it's good to make New Year's Resolutions," he said slowly. "It can't hurt, right? And you may fail on January second, but so what? There's nothing that says that you can't keep trying. There's nothing to lose."

"So does that mean you have a New Year's Resolution for next year?" Patterson asked with interest.

"There are a _lot_ of things I plan to do differently this year, that's for sure," he said seriously, but did not elaborate. Then, turning to Zapata, he turned the conversation away from himself by asking, "What about you, Zapata? Are you against New Year's resolutions because you're bad at keeping them, or what?"

The room erupted in a chorus of noise as everyone reacted to Kurt's friendly taunting with laughter and either support or protest. Kurt squeezed his hand on Jane's shoulder, and they glanced at each other, glad to have the conversation have continued on around them. She looked at the plate that sat in front of him, which someone had thoughtfully refilled while they were out of the room, reaching up to snag a bite sized pastry.

She took a small bite of it, despite how small it was to start with, then glanced at Kurt. He was looking at her fondly, smiling his encouragement. Feeling warmth inside her just from seeing his smile, she couldn't help but smile back at him in response, only then tasting what was in her mouth and deciding that she liked it.

Conversation continued easily, and Jane eventually sipped slowly from her beer, which had been moved to her place in her absence. The rest of the team were easily on their third or fourth, probably even more than that, which meant that they were reaching the part of the evening where they were even more entertaining and relaxed than usual. Jane wondered curiously how much Zapata had had to drink at the Christmas party, and if she would end up that drunk again.

Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was nearing 11:00 pm already. Somehow she'd lost track of time to the point that midnight was actually relatively soon. She was both looking forward the pinnacle of festivities, not having ever done the whole countdown to midnight thing with a group of people, and also to the whole party being _over_. Not that she hated having them there… she was feeling better about it all, preferring just to listen and offer only the occasional comment. However, it would also be nice when they were gone and it was just herself and Kurt again.

Patterson got up to gather the empty bottles from the table, since it was getting crowded, and Jane decided to help her. After all, she didn't want to let the evening go by without getting a chance to talk to her away from the rest of the group. Though she looked surprised, Patterson smiled at Jane when she saw that she intended to help with clear things up. Kurt also looked surprised when she stood, but Jane smiled back at him reassuringly, and he pulled his arm back from her shoulder up to the edge of his chair. While he continued to make small talk with Reade and Zapata, who were unfazed by the departure of the other two, he watched curiously to see what she was up to.

In the kitchen, Jane set down the bottles she was holding, opening the small pantry and taking out a cloth bag that they could use to contain the recycling until they could take it out. Together, they set the bottles inside the bag carefully, laying them down so that they were least likely to fall against each other loudly, or even worse, to break. Jane set the bag on the floor by the end of the counter, out of the way of the walkway.

"Thanks, Jane," Patterson said with a smile.

Before she had a chance to walk away, Jane cleared her throat. "Hey, uh, Patterson?" she said quietly, glancing at the floor and then back up at the other woman awkwardly. When she looked up, she saw that Patterson was looking back at her curiously.

"What's up?" Patterson asked. Jane looked nervous, and she was determined to try and put her at ease. Without ever intending to, Patterson knew that she had actively contributed to making things difficult for Jane simply by not being a better friend to her over the last few months. Not that it excused her behavior, but when she'd been at her most desperate over everything that had been happening in her own life earlier that month, Patterson had failed to see just how desperate Jane had been, as well. Now she wanted to do whatever she could to help mend things between them.

"I just wanted to say…" Jane started nervously, taking a breath and looking back up at her. "I wanted to say thank you for planning that party last week. Everything good that has happened to me in the past week has happened because of that night. So if not for you…" Jane's voice trailed off, and she could feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "Well, I don't like to think where I'd be if not for that night. No, I guess I know where I'd be, literally anyway. Most likely, I'd be at my place, by myself, right now."

Patterson, who had always been emotional, was moved by Jane's words, and was even closer to tears than Jane was. Momentarily speechless, she took a few steps forward, her arms already out, and hugged Jane tightly – much to Jane's surprise.

"I'm sorry, Jane. About all of it. I'm so glad that something that seemed so inconsequential at the time could bring our team back together, because I feel like it has… And after everything we put you through, I wish I'd realized sooner…" Patterson knew that she was crying, and the alcohol she'd already drank certainly wasn't helping, since she was always quick to tear up anyway… but she meant every word she'd said. She actually felt guilty for the fact that Jane was thanking her at all.

Jane shook her head, now hugging Patterson back. A minute later when they stepped back into their own spaces, they both chuckled as they looked at each other, teary eyed but smiling. "Kurt and I had a conversation like this. Or, a bunch of them, actually." Jane exhaled heavily, trying to figure out how to summarize what they'd said all those days ago. "Basically what it came down to was… we both made mistakes. If we could go back, we'd change them, but we can't. There's nothing we can do but agree to do better, because neither of us wanted to lose what we had… _before_ it all went wrong."

Nodding silently, Patterson understood why Weller and Jane seemed to be in such a good place. They'd clearly talked things through. "I feel the same way, Jane," Patterson said, meeting her eyes seriously. "I hope you can forgive me."

But Jane just shook her head. "Don't even think like that, Patterson. You don't owe me anything. If anything, it's exactly the opposite. I'm the one who—"

"I'm missed you," Patterson said, cutting her off. "Were you this stubborn with Weller, too?" she asked with a grin.

Jane smiled suddenly at being called out. She was doing it again, and she knew it. Putting it all on herself. "Oh, so much worse, you have no idea… he'll tell you…" She tilted her head toward Kurt and shook her head at herself, able to think objectively about her behavior now. "I'm working on it, though." She glanced over at him, and he happened to look up at her at that moment. Their eyes locked for a second, and they shared a small smile. Patterson watched the exchange, and couldn't help but smile, too. It was contagious.

When Jane looked back at her, she saw Patterson beaming. "You guys are so cute," the blonde told her. "And it's about time things worked out for you. If anyone deserves happiness, it's the two of you."

"Thanks, Patterson," Jane said softly, with a self-conscious smile.

"So, who needs another beer?" Patterson called to the crowd in the dining room. Reade and Zapata both raised their hands, as did Kurt, grinning. "Nice try, Weller. Not this time, unfortunately."

"You're fired," Kurt yelled, and everyone laughed, Zapata being the loudest.

"How many has she had?" Jane asked Patterson quietly.

"I'm not sure," Patterson replied. "Hopefully not as many as at the party last week… though she _was_ hilarious that night."

Jane blushed just thinking about the things Zapata had said to her and Kurt that night. "She was," Jane agreed. Picking up extra beers for Reade and Zapata, Jane and Patterson headed back to the table, Patterson with another beer for herself as well. Jane set a beer in front of Reade, and Patterson handed one to Zapata, before they each headed for the own chairs. Before she sat down, Jane passed behind Kurt's chair, pausing behind him for a second and laying her hand on his shoulder.

Kurt turned his head towards her the best he could, only sort of able to see her, and Jane was reminded that he couldn't really turn around. She took a step back toward the far side of him, her hand still on his shoulder. Now he looked up at her and he _could_ see her. She could see the question in his eyes, and she just smiled in response, nodding slightly. Trailing her hand across his shoulders, she was about to go back to her chair when Kurt spoke up.

"If we want to see the New Year's festivities on TV, we should move over to the couch," he told the group. "We may need to pull over a few more chairs, though, or it may be a little too cozy." Everyone began standing up, and Jane just stood and waited while Kurt slowly pulled himself up from his chair as well. Zapata and Reade both brought their chairs over to the TV area, while Patterson, the first one to the couch, turned on the TV.

"Hey… everything okay?" Kurt asked her softly, finally on his feet in front of her and stepping forward to wind one arm around her waist, leaning down toward her face.

"Yeah," Jane said, equally quietly, "We had a good talk."

"Good," he replied simply, kissing her on the forehead, then looking down at her curiously for how she would respond to his display of affection in front of the others. The smile on her face could have lit up the room all by itself, it was so bright, and her cheeks turned slightly pink. "Come on," he told her, tugging her by the hand once again, this time toward the couch, "Let's go watch the crazy people out in Times Square on TV."

Every time he said the words _Times Square_ , she felt a chill run down her spine. She'd been there since that night she'd arrived there in a bag, of course, mainly walking through it when they were on a case. Lots of people associated it with New Year's or just sightseeing, but it would never be that simple for her.

They turned slowly and walked toward the others, who were, of course, watching them intently, all with varying degrees of gleeful smiles on their faces. Zapata looked elated, and Jane wondered again how much she'd had to drink, and whether she'd reached the stage where she was bluntly honest. Jane stood and waited while Kurt settled himself on the couch, slowly and carefully, and then sat herself beside him, against the right arm, leaning her head on his shoulder and glancing past him at the others.

Just as she looked away, she felt his arm scoop under her knees, lifting her legs over his and setting them down so they sat diagonally across his lap. Looking back at him in surprise, she heard the others buzzing excitedly. Now her cheeks really _did_ heat up, and she was convinced that they must be bright red.

"Okay I'll say it, you guys are _ridiculous,_ " Zapata blurted out.

Reade wheeled around in her direction immediately, exclaiming, "Zapata!"

She rolled her eyes dramatically, then corrected herself. "Relax, Reade, you know what I meant. I mean…" Looking momentarily confused, she shook her head and seemed to clear her thoughts. "Okay, let me try again," she said, "Jane, Weller, you guys are _ridiculously_ _ **adorable**_ _._ We're all simultaneously jealous and nauseated. Seriously. Just stop being so damn _cute_." With that, Zapata began cackling at herself, while Reade just put his hand over his face and shook his head at his partner.

Patterson looked at a very embarrassed Jane, and hoped to ease her embarrassment when she said, "Well, I guess that answers our earlierquestion, right Jane…?" She was referring, of course, to their curiosity over how much Zapata had had to drink. The answer was: approximately as much as at the holiday party, and enough to make her say things that she would _definitely_ never have said otherwise.

Jane was thankful for the levity that came from Patterson's comment. She knew that the other's teasing was good-natured, and really, she didn't mind. After all, she was quite comfortable with her legs across his lap, and she was just happy to be there, with the group of them, Kurt especially. It was a little bit awkward, but less so than she'd been afraid it would be, and the alcohol had helped everyone relax. Kurt nudged her in the side, pointing at the TV. They were showing the giant, sparkling ball that would drop at midnight, and then panning across the crowd that filled what looked like every conceivable inch of Times Square.

"Wow," Jane said in awe, her eyes wide. Then, looking at the others, who were enjoying watching her reaction, she asked, "Have any of you been to Times Square for New Year's Eve?"

"Once," said Zapata, obviously now trying hard to be serious. "But let's just say, it… ended badly. Never again." After that she clamped her mouth shut, looking slightly mortified but unwilling to say any more, no matter how the others begged.

Kurt reached down and took Jane's hand, giving it a squeeze as Patterson began speaking. "I used to go every year, with friends, when I first moved here," she said. "It's usually really, really cold, and it sucks if you have to pee, but it's unlike anything else. The energy is just… amazing."

"What made you stop going?" Jane asked curiously. Patterson's face morphed into a grimace, and it appeared that she was trying very hard to keep her face from falling.

"Well, the, uh, friends that I went with… There was a group of us, and one by one, they sort of drifted apart. Got married, had kids… you know… just…" She shrugged, suddenly feeling the loss that she'd suffered when David had been killed acutely, as if it was stabbing her in the heart. "You know, life happened, I guess. To _them_ , anyway." _David would have gone with me, if he was here,_ she couldn't help but think.

"Patterson, I'm dying to go. Can we plan on going next year? Please?" Jane asked her sincerely, seeing that the blonde was suddenly almost in tears.

"I'd love that," she answered softly, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Then, feeling bolstered by Jane's support, she sat up a little straighter. "Are you in on this, or what, Weller?" Patterson asked curiously. Jane hadn't mentioned him in this plan one way or the other.

"We talked about it earlier. I'm not opposed to the idea, though I don't think I put it on my calendar yet…" he replied.

"You have a calendar?" Jane asked teasingly, sitting up straighter to look around his apartment. "Where?"

"I'm the Assistant Director of the FBI," Kurt said, puffing out his chest in mock indignation, "of course I have a calendar."

Zapata, for whatever reason, collapsed in a helpless peal of laughter then, laughing so hard that she fell off her chair. She'd been quiet for a minute, and they'd forgotten just how intoxicated she apparently was until she landed on the floor. The others couldn't help but laugh too, and Reade stood up to help her up, though she insisted that she was "absolutely fine, I don't need any help, dammit!" Raising his hands defensively in front of him, he sat back down, leaving her to her own devices to get off the floor, as instructed. It took several tries, since she was _still_ laughing, but eventually Zapata ended up back in her chair, tucking her hair behind her ears as if nothing had ever happened, and glaring slightly at Reade, who was still grinning at her.

"Anyway," Jane said, trying to segway the discussion back to the point at which it had derailed by Zapata's spectacular fall, "Reade, have you ever gone to Times Square for New Years?"

"A couple times," he said with a shrug, "It was cold. I was hungry. People were stupid... and the crowds…" He rolled his eyes. "Trying to move in _any_ direction was ridiculous. I don't know, it wasn't really my scene."

Jane nodded, thinking that it sounded reasonable. "Fair enough," she said. Glancing up at the TV, she saw that the display at the bottom of the screen said that there were sixteen minutes until midnight. How had the time suddenly gone so quickly that evening?

Happy to let the conversation move on without her, she tuned out slightly as the group chatted on, leaning against Kurt, her head once again on his shoulder. They'd been going to bed early all week, in an attempt to keep Kurt's recovery on track, and she was beginning to feel the lateness of the hour, despite having had two naps herself that day. She felt herself almost drifting off when his voice cut through her thoughts, which had been growing ever fuzzier.

"Hey," he whispered. "You awake over there?" She hadn't even realized that her eyes had closed until she was opening them, yawning slightly.

"Sorry," she said, opening her eyes wide to try to wake herself back up. "Thanks for waking me up… I didn't want to miss it."

"I know," he told her with a smile. "But before that, I need you to come with me for a second."

"Where?" she asked.

"In the other room," he told her calmly. "We have just enough time, and we'll be back before the ball drops at midnight, I promise."

Looking at him curiously, she shook her head slowly at his mysterious request as she pulled her legs back off of his lap and stood up, slowly, feeling a little stiff. Once she was up, he pushed himself up as well, to the surprise of the other three people in the room.

"Where're you guys going?" asked Zapata suggestively, raising her eyebrows so high and tilting her head to the side to the point that she almost knocked herself off balance again, catching herself just in time and then cackling with laughter once again.

"We'll be right back, don't worry," Kurt assured them. "I've got a close eye on the time."

They watched the two of them leave the room together, Kurt tugging gently on Jane's hand. Patterson was biting her lip without even realizing it, shaking her head at just how cute their two friends were.

"You okay, Patterson?" Reade asked as Jane and Kurt disappeared through a door at the far end of the apartment.

"Yeah," she replied, still watching the door they'd disappeared through. "They're just so… perfect for each other."

"That they are," Reade agreed. "A little bit disgustingly so, but that's a good thing, I guess."

"What are we doing in here?" Jane asked, confused, as Kurt walked into his bedroom behind her and closed the door. Despite just having woken up from her tiny accidental nap, she was a little bit giddy with anticipation over the impending ball drop, and she wasn't sure whether she was relieved to be away from the frenzy of conversation in the next room or if she wanted to be a part of it.

"I'll share you with them for the last thirty seconds of this year," he told her. "But I get you to myself for the four and a half minutes before that." She couldn't help but smile at him, because really… his sweetness constantly surprised her. Not because she didn't think he was sweet, because she did. The surprise was that more and more over the past nine days, he directed it at her so openly. _Before_ everything had happened, he'd always held back just enough that she never knew quite where she stood with him, or how he'd felt about her. Now, on the other hand… well, there was no more confusion.

"Dance with me?" he asked, pressing a button on his phone, which sat on his dresser, and then stepping towards her where she stood. She took a step and met him halfway, draping her arms over his shoulders as he wrapped his around her waist. A softly strumming guitar began playing from the small device, and a smooth voice began to sing only seconds later.

" _Steal my heart and hold my tongue  
I feel my time, my time has come  
Let me in, unlock the door  
I've never felt this way before…"_

Jane didn't know the song, unsurprisingly. She had long been used to the fact that she never knew the song, had never seen the TV show or the movie… Never tried the food, never played the game… Never visited this or that place, never heard of that celebrity… No matter what people were talking about, she was almost sure to be unfamiliar with it. It was exhausting, and could be more than a little disheartening. She'd given up long ago trying to keep up with what other people knew or had tried. It was simply impossible.

Instead, she had decided to focus on what she _did_ know. It might not have been much, but these memories belonged to her. Not Alice, not Remi, not Taylor. _Jane._ Now, as she listened to the words of the song, she already had chills.

" _And the wheels just keep on turning  
The drummer begins to drum  
I don't know which way I'm going  
I don't know which way I've come…"_

If there was anything that Jane could relate to, it was uncertainty. Though she'd slowly pieced some of it together, not knowing where she'd come from or where she was going were high on the list of the many different kinds of uncertainty in her life. She'd always been lost, it was just a matter of _how_ lost. And yet when the singer sang about it, somehow being lost didn't sound bad at all. It sounded almost… exciting. She only wished that she could feel that way about her own life, but for the most part, exciting had always been the wrong word. While yes, many people would probably have thought that working for the FBI, catching the bad guys for a living _was_ pretty exciting… it wasn't something that Jane had had the chance to _choose_. She couldn't exactly say that it was boring, and doing it _did_ give her life purpose, a reason to get up in the morning…

But after everything she'd been through, what Jane would not have given for an _un_ -exciting life – maybe not all the time, but at least a little bit of it… a family of her own, one not composed of terrorists. A purpose, yes, but maybe not always having her life and the lives of those she cared about constantly in jeopardy…

 _You could still have that,_ she thought. _You've got a pretty good candidate standing right in front of you. And you can't possibly doubt that he'd want that with you, too._ Looking back up into his eyes, she couldn't help but smile uncertainly.

 _It's been nine days…_ she reminded herself. _How can I be so presumptuous?_

 _Because you_ _ **know**_ _,_ the voice in her head told her. _Even if you don't want to admit it to yourself._

" _Hold my head inside your hands  
I need someone who understands  
I need someone, someone who hears  
For you, I've waited all these years…"_

Kurt was staring at her intently, trying to memorize everything about that moment. There were so many things swirling in her eyes, as she looked off into the distance. When he pulled her tighter, letting the fingers on his right hand trace halfway up the middle of her back gently, and then back down again, she focused on him immediately with a smile. _He_ obviously knew the song, because when the next few lines of the song played from the speaker, she found that he was signing along in a whisper.

" _For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come  
Until my day, my day is done  
And say you'll come and set me free  
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me…"_

While the whole song was nearly perfect, those four lines had been the ones that resonated with him the most. Because really, now that everything had unfolded the way it had, he _would_ have done anything, waited any amount of time for her… Hadn't he done that without even knowing it, really? All his adult life he'd been, as he'd once called it, "too choosy," until Jane had appeared in his life. All of a sudden, he'd opened up to her like he never had with anyone before, even if he hadn't realized he was doing it, and even if it wasn't always in _words_. It had taken him what felt like an eternity, but he finally understood. For him, there was only Jane.

"… _In your tears and in your blood  
In your fire and in your flood  
I hear you laugh, I heard you sing  
I wouldn't change a single thing…"_

Thinking of tears, blood and fire, she couldn't help but think somewhat ruefully that those three things seemed to sum up far too much of her life so far. But then, just like the song said, and the same way she'd told Kurt, she wouldn't change any of it. There were plenty of things that she would happily never think about again if given the choice, but instead of focusing on what she was _not_ going to think of, it made more sense to focus on what she _did_ want to think of – which was moments like this, when she was happy. After all, if all of the rest of it was the price of being there, at that moment, then so be it. She only wished that she'd known along the way that it would have ended up being worth it – the journey would have been _far_ less painful.

 _It doesn't work that way,_ the voice in her head told her. _And really, in a way, isn't this that much sweeter because you_ _ **didn't**_ _know?_

For the rest of the song, they both simply held onto each other, reliving only the good parts of the past nine days, since the last time since they'd danced. In some ways, it felt like a different lifetime, and in other ways, it felt like only minutes ago. Jane's temple leaned gently against the scruff of his cheek, which had become a familiar resting place for her face over the past week. She wasn't even sure how long it had been there, because it seemed that her temple had simply gravitated to the side of his face as if pulled by magnetic force.

"… _And the wheels just keep on turning  
The drummers begin to drum  
I don't know which way I'm going  
I don't know what I'll become_

 _For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come  
Until my days, my days are done  
And say you'll come and set me free  
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me_

 _Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me  
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me…"_

The song ended, and he turned his head, leaning down to kiss her for a few seconds before leaning back. "Come on," he said, "It's almost midnight." With that, he took her hand and once again, tugged her along with him back out of the bedroom. The others were looked excitedly at the TV, appearing to have gotten refills on both food and beers in Jane and Kurt's absence.

"Okay, you guys," Patterson said seriously, "since three out of five of us have agreed on _not_ kissing anyone at midnight," she looked from Zapata to Reade, who both nodded, slightly wide eyed in discomfort at the mere suggestion, and then back at Jane and Kurt, "we're doing a selfie of our group at midnight instead. I don't think we have a single picture of the five of us, and I don't care if it's cheesy, I want one. So everyone has to get together on the couch. Come on! We have about twenty seconds left!"

Jane and Kurt smiled, moving across the room to the open section in the middle of the couch that the others had left them. Reade and Zapata were already sitting up on the back edge, behind them, and once Jane and Kurt sat down, Patterson came over and knelt on the floor in the space between Jane's left leg and Kurt's right. "Sorry, guys, you know I would never come between you two," she said over her shoulder, grinning.

"Haha," Jane said, grinning back at her as Patterson turned her phone around and they all tried to squeeze into the frame of the picture. Jane glanced past Patterson at the TV, where the crowd had already begun counting down the last minute before midnight. She felt Kurt's arm around her, pulling her closer, as the people who she cared about most in the world, despite a healthy dose of misunderstandings, squeezed their faces as close together as they could get. As those last seconds of the year ticked away, she couldn't help but flash back to so many other times.

That year had been both heaven and hell, as well as what felt like every possible part of the spectrum in between the two poles. It seemed impossible to say whether the year had been good or bad. On one hand, she would do anything _not_ to repeat it, and on another… she wouldn't have traded it for anything – though she could admit that most of the "wouldn't trade it" part was the very end of it. Still, without the parts that hurt, she would certainly not have ended up where she was at that moment. She'd thought it to herself over and over in the past few days, but unlike most people, who've had time to think about such a thing throughout their lives, it was a new concept to her, and therefore felt like a major realization.

She felt a slight pain in her chest, but she couldn't figure out whether it was happy or sad. After all, the images flashing before her eyes held some of both. _Mayfair. Roman. Shepherd. Oscar. Carter. Markos. Cade. Times Square. Days and nights spent in the office, in the field, in the car, even on the subway, which she'd been riding alone when she should have been at home in her safe house._

And wedged in one way or another inside every single one of those memories was Kurt. She didn't know what she would have done had she not ended up here, in this moment. It seemed silly now, that she had thought that she could move past her feelings for him, that she could be with anyone else. After all, in the end, it was always Kurt.

The seconds seemed to tick down faster and faster, as Patterson perfected her aim and they all made faces at themselves in the screen of her phone. Jane felt a buzzing in her head, a combination of the anticipation of the moment when this year that literally encompassed almost her entire memory, for better and for worse, would end. So much had changed. And yet, in the end, the most important thing never had, despite what she had _thought_.

 _TEN!_ they shouted together.

Catching sight of a glint of light in the screen, Jane realized that the shiny disc around her neck was reflecting off of a light somewhere in the room. She reached her right hand, the one Kurt was not holding, up to press her thumb and her index finger against either side of it, feeling emotion seem to flow from the smooth surface into her fingers. It held so many memories, both good and bad.

 _NINE!_

 _EIGHT!_

Jane looked at each of them, these people that were her family now, wondering how it was possible. After everything they'd been through, everything they'd put each other through, how had they ended up back here, together?

 _SEVEN!_

 _SIX!_

She was overwhelmed, Kurt could see, and he squeezed her hand, feeling her squeeze right back. He'd had so many worries, so many doubts, and yet, suddenly it all seemed so simple. He felt an unexpected rush of gratitude for the fact that he'd been so "choosy," that no one else had ever seemed right for him. Now he understood why.

 _FIVE!_

 _FOUR!_

Jane exhaled with effort, feeling her breath catch in her throat unexpectedly. She hadn't known her thoughts could race this fast, and it was almost making her dizzy. The good and the bad, it was all flashing behind her eyes at lightning speed.

 _THREE!_

 _TWO!_

Kurt nudged her in the side, causing her to turn and look at him. Up, into his eyes, those pools of blue in which she always lost herself. The tip of his nose touched hers, and she ceased to see the screen of Patterson's phone, which was now to her right. She ceased to see _anything_ , except the blue of Kurt's eyes in front of her.

 _ONE!_

At that last second of the year, one second before Patterson took their selfie, Kurt leaned forward the last fraction of an inch toward Jane and kissed her. He took pity on their friends whose faces were inches away from them, keeping the kiss relatively innocent, but making sure that it lasted from the last second of one year into the first few seconds of the next, so that it was both the last memory they had of that year during which things had both gone so wrong, as well as the first memory of the year that would hopefully be infinitely better. That was the best way he could think of to both end and start a year.

At the same second, somewhere in Jane's head, it was as if a light flashed, the same way a flash bulb would have done on the kind of old camera that Jane's mother, or more accurately, _Alice's_ mother, might have used to take a picture of her as a child during the far too short childhood that Jane no longer remembered. The blinding light flashed inside her head and her brain captured not just what she saw through her eyes – which at that second was nothing, because her eyes had closed when Kurt had kissed her – but also included the sight of the five faces crammed into the screen of Patterson's phone that she'd seen two seconds before, as well as the blue of Kurt's eyes that she'd seen one second ago.

This "picture" in her mind also included the sounds of her friends' voices, their boisterous laughter and the countdown also happening on TV, the feelings of love, of peace, of a joy that she had never thought possible, after every horrible thing that she had done and had been done to her… it was the _feeling_ of that second, that every bit of happiness that she felt was the result of sadness and pain that was equally intense. There was something to be said for the fact that, to her surprise, she finally felt that she deserved this moment.

This was the way that she would remember that year. The year that everything went wrong, and went wrong again, and then got worse. The year when the ground was pulled out under her time and time and time again, when she clawed her way back from nothing what felt like every single day, until in the end, she lost _everything_ she had worked for,and when it hadn't seemed possible, she'd lost some more.

And yet, she was still standing – figuratively speaking, of course – and somehow, in the end she had not only survived, but she had learned what she considered to be the most important thing of all.

 _Finally, she knew who she was. She was_ _ **Jane**_ _… and she wasn't alone, nor was she going to be._

When she opened her eyes in the year that would start one second later, Kurt would be there, looking back at her with the love that had always been there, before either of them had even seen it. It seemed so simple now, really, and it was the _only_ thing she needed.

Kurt had been right when he'd called this "the happy part," and this was the part that they were **never** going to forget.

 _Happy New Year,_ she thought with a smile.

 **Disclaimer 2: Once again, I do not own Blindspot (though that thought makes me sad). I also do not own the lyrics to Coldplay's amazing song, "Til Kingdom Come," which I've listened to almost nonstop for the past week and a half, since I decided to put it in this chapter.**

 _A/N: Thank you again for reading this story through 48 long chapters, and for your kind reviews. They mean a lot to me. :)_


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